


Once Upon a Winter's Tale

by AmeliaIsmills



Series: A King for all Seasons [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, F/M, Fix-It, Gen, House Stark, House Targaryen, R Plus L Equals J, Time Travel, Time Travel Fix-It
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-02
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2020-06-02 13:08:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 11
Words: 43,236
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19442092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AmeliaIsmills/pseuds/AmeliaIsmills
Summary: The Gods of Old should have known better than to let that foreign God R’hllor try and save the world with his prophecies. The table ran to slow and their joint champion did not come into his own fast enough. Still, R’hllor did like a burning world and if that’s what it took to reset the clock and destroy the Night King then that’s what they would do. They would burn away the prophecy of the Azor Ahai and fire and ice and bring about the Prophecy of the Second Summer and the Eternal Night.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> UPDATED: Commenting Moderation turned on and registered user only turned on. 
> 
> Author’s Notes: This entire thing is self-indulgent fix-it for my own personal pleasure. If y'all happen to derive some sort of pleasure from it as well, then awesome. If it’s not your cup of tea, then move along please. 
> 
> It is a really weird smorgasboard of TV show and book cannon. I guess the only thing to really need to know prior to going into this shindig is Jon went to Dragonstone to meet with Dany, but the divergence of the story from a lot of tv cannon begins there. Sansa’s storyline does involve her marriage to Ramsey and she does escape to Castle Black with Brienne. Arya is still a badass assassin. 
> 
> I will go ahead and state Jon will not be paired with Sansa or with Daenerys. Both of them will be portrayed as strong, decisive women who more often than not act as the backbone and ruthlessness to Jon’s character honor. 
> 
> I would like to go on record, as always it seems I must, and state...I delete rudeness. I am not looking to debate character choices or “theories” or cannon “betrayal.” Please find a message board for that. 
> 
> I am happy to discuss plot points and rainbows and kittens and the general suckiness of Gregor Clegane. Fuck the Mountain and the horse he rode in on. 
> 
> I don’t think I will pair Jon with a man either. I can’t promise that for real, but I can almost promise that. 
> 
> Not a lot of people I like will die here.
> 
> Like I said, this is a self-indulgent fic. I want to see Jon on the Iron Throne and kick the Night King’s ass. I also really dig the idea of Sansa and Dany being buds. Honestly, if I was going to have either of them marry Jon it would be both of them just like Visenya and Rhaenys married Aegon I.
> 
> \---  
> General Disclaimer for all derivative works. I do not own the source material all works falling under the general definition of the word “fanfiction.” Fanfiction for this intent and purpose is described as works created for enjoyment and never for profit that is based on an original source owned by another entity or artist. If presented with a cease and desist request I will immediatly do all in my power to remove the offending article as quickly and thoroughly as possible. 
> 
> Author’s Statement of Intent: The work I create is for sole enjoyment of the writing process. I post it in the idea that someone else might derive pleasure from what I enjoy writing. With this in mind I kindly ask that constructive criticism not be given unless specifically requested at the beginning of the notes. While I will not delete comments that are not rude or trolling, I respectfully ask that it not occur to begin with. 
> 
> If something is not your cup of tea, I ask that you do not read further and you do not post telling me why it is not your cup of tea. I do not hold with any kink-shaming at all and hold a no-tolerance view across the board. I also do not hold with any character bashing or anti-ship commenting. 
> 
> This disclaimer was created 08/04/2019 and added to all current works and future works.

**_Prologue_ **

_THE WATERS WILL FREEZE, AND THE SUN WILL SET_

_FOR MANY DAYS AND MANY NIGHTS._

_THE DEAD WILL RISE FROM NORTH TO SOUTH,_

_FROM EAST TO WEST._

_AND ONLY THE PROMISED ONE CAN STOP THE ETERNAL NIGHT._

**The Prophecy of the Eternal Night**

Aegon, called Jon, Targaryen, sixth of his name as King of the Seven Kingdoms, stood standing over the battlements of Winterfell. Soon the walls would fall and eternal night would reign over the North. He tilted his head down to glance at Ghost who had come up to nuzzle at Jon’s hand. 

“What is it, boy?” he questioned quietly as the direwolf butted against his hand. Ghost whined and rubbed against Jon’s open hand. Jon knotted his fingers in the wolf’s fur and rubbed his head in what he assumed Ghost wanted. 

“The men have finished moving the remains from the crypt,” Arya’s voice startled Jon and he shot a look over his shoulder as his cousin came to join him to look out at the icy void. 

Arya met his gaze steadily as he responded, “Is Sansa done glaring at those doing their job?” 

Arya snickered, “I am fairly certain she lectured the blacksmith’s boys about being more careful about toting out one of our, Great, Great Uncle Stark’s some three generations back out of the crypt. I didn’t have the heart to point out they were headed for burn pile.” 

Jon could not help but grin back, “You are able to fight, Arya, and have been working with those that will be guarding at the Heart Tree. I’ve been working steadily to set the battle plans and work with Daenerys and her children. Even Theon is spending his time talking to the archers and helping the best he can to notch and create dragonglass arrows. Sansa is a ruler at heart and she can do no ruling here. The women and children have been sent south and all that remain are those planning to fight. Let her be.”

Arya shot him a non-impressed look. 

“I am aware of why she is doing it, Jon. I just do not like that she is here still to be able to do it. She should have long gone with the others headed south,” Arya succinctly stated. 

Jon opened his mouth to respond, but was quickly interrupted as the object of their conversation came up the last of the stairs to stand beside them and stare out at their domain. 

“Perhaps, you would both do well to remember that I am quite capable of making my own choices as a woman grown and twice married,” Sansa’s voice held the same firmness and factual stating that had been laced into her tone like armor ever since she had finally come out of her fugue state after being freed from the Bolton bastard. Brienne had gone a long way to help her regain confidence upon taking up her own spot as Sansa's sworn shield. 

“What exactly are you going to do?” Arya snapped back, worry softening the sharp rebuke. Sansa cut her eyes over to Arya and for a brief moment, Jon could see them back as children bickering over proper behavior and noble standings. 

“I will stand with the last of my family,” Sansa retorted. 

Jon couldn’t help the tightness in his chest at the pride he could not help but feel at Sansa’s easy inclusion. A part of him wanted to put the reasoning on the fact his own heritage was revealed, but Sansa had recognized him as brother, days before his parentage had been revealed after she had begun to heal. 

He felt a small hand slip in his and he smiled as Sansa looked at him knowingly. His cousin was well versed in reading people’s faces these days. Jon supposed it was an effect of having to perfect the skill just to survive. Sansa did not talk often of her time as the wife of the Bolton Bastard and only slightly more about her time in the Veil or King’s Landing, but Jon could see the look directly behind the placid, cool look Sansa gave the world at large. 

They might call him the Dragon of Winterfell, but the fury that raged behind Sansa’s eyes were full of more blood and fire than Jon had ever felt simmer beneath his own. That was probably the reasoning behind his own Aunt’s acceptance and friendship with her fiery counterpart Queen. If Jon had his way he’d have seen Sansa crowned in the North and Daenerys solidly on the Iron Throne for the South, but they’d both look at him askance when he suggested it and had both staunchly declared for him. 

He’d found himself shoved in the remains of the former Lady Catelyn Stark’s sept to be crowned King before God’s he did not even worship before being dragged to the heart tree to be crowned King again. When he had argued that either of them were more qualified, they did not even bother to argue that fact, just informed him that’s why they would both sit his small council when the world was done trying to end. 

That had been weeks before, when the idea of destroying the Night King and his army still felt slightly possible. Then word of the devastation of the far north and the last of the manned keeps. The Night’s Watch was gone, only a straggled group of brother’s who had traveled to Winterfell for supplies survived. Hundreds of thousands of Free Folk killed and any northerner’s that had refused to leave already gone. 

The world was going to end in ice and death, not the fire and blood his own dynasty had promised generation’s ago. 

“May I join you?” Daenerys spoke as she came up to the three. 

“Of course,” Sansa murmured and smiled. Jon was pleased to see it was her real one, not the brittle, polite smile that had adorned his cousin’s face to often as of late. Daenerys came to stand at his other side, Arya moving to stand by Sansa. 

“A raven came from King’s Landing. Cersei still sits the throne, but snow has begun to fall and Blackwater Bay begins to freeze. The usurper, would-be queen asks for the aid as due the crown from the North,” Daenerys said blithely. Jon felt a moment of pride the Daenerys had been able to actually relay the message without the venom she normally did not spare for Lannister woman. 

Jon often felt Sansa and Daenerys had bonded over their mutual hatred of the lion queen. Nobody responded to the statement though, they all knew the true war still laid north and not south. 

They stood there quietly for a long while before Daenerys spoke again. 

“I am glad to have known you, nephew, and those that call you family as my own,” she murmured and continued, “My dothraki call their people, blood of their blood. That is what you all are to me and I did not think I would ever have that.” 

“Blood of my blood,” Sansa stated quietly, reaching her other hand out and grasping the hand of the Princess of Dragonstone, “We are glad you came home.”

Jon stood among the last of his family as he looked to his broken kingdom. He could not help but wish he was able to save even a small shard of their shattered home. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


_And there will come a time,_

_When all seems lost_

_The world will cry ice_

_And fire will not breath life_

_Then it will end,_

_Only to start again._

**_From the Prophecy of the Second Summer_ **

Melisandre, Priestess of R’hllor stood before the Heart Tree of Winterfell, feeling as perplexed in what many of the North considered the most sacred of places. There was no red temple here and the desolate, darkness of the half collapsed sept built for the last Lady Stark had felt wrong. 

She could feel the eyes of Ser Davos following her everywhere she went and she knew it was only by R’hllor’s grace that her throat was not slit already. She only hoped she could fulfill her purpose whatever that was to be, before the judgement of a man’s determination to find her guilty for her perceived wrongs. 

There were moments where she doubted her own actions, but Melisandre had not let herself dwell on the choices she’d made, right or wrong, for over three centuries. It was no good to look at the misinterpretation from the flames when the truth was still to be sought. 

Now, she stood before the tree, King Jon had called the Heart Tree. A weirwood fixture to the worship of the Old God’s. R’hllor bless her, was the only God of Old, but R’hllor did have many faces. Mayhaps that is why she felt the pull to come to the Heart Tree. 

“They say that no one can stand before the Heart Tree and lie,” the youngest living Stark rolled beside her. She glanced over and pursed her lips. Here was an entity that confused her even further, even in her absolute worship and belief of R’hllor. She simply could not figure if the boy was of the Lord of Light or from the Other. 

“You do not have to figure it out,” the boy stated calmly beside her. 

She looked down at him, perplexed. 

“You are thinking very loudly and it is quite distracting,” Bran said offhandedly and allowed her no opportunity to respond. 

“It is hard to go back as far as you need to know the answer of your God and the Old God’s and you are somewhat correct about the many faces of the divinity, but like all fanatics...quite unwilling to grasp any other concept. Thus...you do not have to figure it out, because it would not matter if the truth sat in front of you...your belief would not allow you to feel or see any different than you already do,” Bran finished.

He tilted his head and looked over at her and then towards the walls of Winterfell. She followed his view and knew that he looked towards where his siblings stood looking over the location where humanity would finally fall if R’hllor did not intervene. 

“They forgot me,” the boy went on as if talking to someone else. 

“They do not mean too and if they realized even in this moment, they would feel guilty for leaving out the boy they remember to be Bran Stark,” he continued, “but you and I both know that Bran Stark is dead.”

Melisandre felt the tendrils of frustration curl in her belly and her bones ached in a way they normally would not. She suddenly felt all the years of her age and that caused her great distress. 

“You will rest soon, priestess of the Red God,” the boy went on, “You will rest and I will finally fly.” 

Melisandre found she had no words in response and instead turned back to the Heart Tree, only to find the eyes open and burning straight into her soul. Her breath caught in her throat as the eyes bled and bled and she felt the same burning, red liquid fall across her own cheeks. 

She gasped and fell to her knees looking over to the boy who stared straight at her without blinking. 

“You have sacrificed many in all your years, Melony of Lot Seven, but today you give yourself to the Gods of Old. R’hllor was given leave to bring about the Prince that was Promised, Azor Ahai reborn, but in that the Son of flames has failed and the Night King will reign over the dead,” the boy’s voice seemed to come from everywhere and Melisandre scratched frantically at her face and tried to cover her ears. 

She felt the amulet she had worn for nearly her entire life falling from her neck and shatter as if hitting diamond as it crashed to the ground. The world spun and she screamed and she screamed as she felt every piece of her body unwind and break apart from her body and it was with horror that she realized she burned. Her blood boiled from her veins and through her pores. She watched as her skin seemed to melt away. 

The last thing she heard before she was no more was the boy’s voice, “There is power in the blood, Melony...and power in sacrifice...but the power from every sacrifice ever made in one God’s name from his eldest follower...that power is without scale and it must be filtered into life...not death...watch Melony who became Melisandre as the world is reborn in fire and prophecy rewritten.” 

Bran watched as the red priestess burned and then as the Heart Tree set itself to flame and the entire woods with it. He heard the voices of his siblings over the roar of the fire. He looked up to meet their eyes as a ring of fire erupted around himself and the woods. 

“I must go North beyond the wall, that cannot change. Jojen and Meera will come for me and you must make sure I go. Do not fail the world again Aegon Targaryen. Bring forth a Targaryen reclamation...fire the flame of Lightbringer, wake the Stone Dragons...Fire must sit the throne if the world is to survive...the old blood must return...both fire and ice....,” Bran instructed then felt his own blood begin to boil and the world to disappear from view. 

  
  


**The Red God’s disciple and the Old God’s Voice**

**Shall work together to forge fire and ice**

**Unwilling with the spark, but forced to start the fire**

**The Red God will reign briefly**

**Then the Old God’s return to stoke the flame**

**_A Portion of the Second Summer Prophecy_ **


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awakening into the past, the travelers struggle or thrive to adjust.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I aged them to where I needed them. That is all.

___  
Jon 

“Hurry, Snow! We must make it back to the gates before the sun sets entirely.” 

It is the first thing Jon hears as he stumbles into himself. His jerks his head to stare in shock at the back of his brother's head. 

“Robb,” he harshly gasps and stops where he stands. He glances around himself quickly and takes stock of where they are. He feels a familiar burn in his stomach and his vision swims briefly. 

Whenever or wherever it is, his body has had a bit of drink. 

“Jon?” Robb sounds slightly worried and Jon hurries to try and smile reassuringly. Robb’s baffled look tells him that he missed the mark. 

Then again, the fact he wasn't sulking or pouting probably has something to do with Robb’s bafflement. 

He was only ten and seven, he realizes as he finally remembers what night it is in his memories. It does not matter if they run the entire way back to winterfell. The gates will be closed early and Lord Stark waiting in the God’s Wood for them. 

Jon already can feel the bruises he will have from all the extra training and chores they were required to complete in penance. He tries to clear his mind enough to focus on what to do. 

He remembers what Bran, the three eyed raven said, clear as if burned into his brain. He sent a prayer to the old gods that he suddenly wasn't dropped in the past alone.  
____  
Sansa

Sansa watched in horror as the God’s Wood burned and shut her eyes to the sight only briefly and then felt them fly open as she found herself submerged. Choking she clawed her way up and looked around the chamber in panic. She took deep solid breaths of air and as pushed her drenched hair away from her eyes. 

Eyes wide she stood in the tub so fast she started to slip, but caught herself on the sides of the ridiculous copper monstrosity she used to have toted back and forth from her mother’s rooms to her own. The stupid thing had been melted down for weaponry and armor when the war with the dead had come. 

“Sansa!” Arya’s voice traveled from the other room and Sansa quickly pulled herself the rest of the way from the water and stepped onto the ground. It was chilly, but nowhere near the icy feel of the world they had apparently left behind. 

She wondered how far into the summer they were. She glanced down to her body, taking stock of her barely formed breasts and the lack of scarring. She would place herself right around four and teen. They would mean Arya was a ten and two and Jon ten and seven. 

Hopefully, they both traveled back with her. It was going to be infinitely harder to put Jon on the Iron Throne if she had to go through trying to make the boy a man. Jon’s experiences had molded the man he became and he was the exact person they needed at the forefront of leading them.  
“Sansa?” Arya entered without waiting for Sansa to give her leave. 

Sansa felt a type of gratitude she did not know herself capable of when the eyes that met hers were just as worldly as the ones she’d left behind. 

“Mother has already gone to her chambers and Theon Greyjoy is currently bedding your chambermaid. I do not know where Robb and Jon currently are, but I do believe they are in trouble as Father had the gates closed and is apparently out in the God’s Woods waiting,” Arya told her dryly. 

Sansa dried herself and slipped the ridiculously lace covered nightdress she had laid out. Her nose rolled up at the monstrosity as it settled over her body and when she looked up again, Arya was trying not to laugh. 

Sansa held out for only a moment and then felt a mirth she could not remember feeling in more moons than she could count. She fell against Arya, both of them clutching one another, crying, and laughing somewhat hysterically. 

They were still laughing and trying to help one another remember their own routines at this age when Sansa’s chambermaid came tumbling through the door, slightly bow legged, asking if there was anything else her ladies needed before they retired. 

___  
Daenerys 

Daenerys sat rather pleased with herself as Viserys bled out in front of her. His throat slit from coming to close as he tried to pinch at her nipple. The matter of Khal Drogo had been brought up and when she had objected, as was her right, Viserys had reacted rather violently. She supposed that it was not exactly the best idea to lash out with the knife she had been cutting her food with, but it was what she had at hand and he really should not have pressed her.

Standing, she stepped over him and onto the balcony. Luckily, it was quite late and Viserys had dismissed her handmaid’s in favor of stripping her down his self. She sighed and found herself wishing for her red door for the first time in a very long time. 

Still, she knew it was for the fact that she wanted safety and family that she had decided somewhere in her youth the red door meant, not exactly the house they had lived with the red door. 

She did wonder briefly how the giant doors that led to the Dragonstone stairs would look painted red. 

Now, what to do about the dead body laid out in her room? She pursed her lips as she looked in the room at Viserys’s body. He had finally quit moving. Well, she supposed there was nothing to do with it, but burn the villa down. 

Hours later, after having pushed Viserys under her bed, and pouring out all the lamp oil she could find, Daenerys stood watching as the entire villa burned down around her. Illyrio Mopatis still breathing at her feet and her children’s eggs laying beside her. She supposed it was some luck that they were here and not sequestered in some other obscure location. 

“How did you describe me, Magister? A pliable, young child?” Daenerys murmured, “If it helps, you are serving a very good purpose. My children need blood and fire and blood and fire they will receive.” 

Illyrio’s eyes fluttered closed as the smoke inhalation caused him to black out. The villa burned for many hours and when it had finally abated and the surrounding people came to dig through the wreckage, Daenerys Stormborn slipped away with three winged creatures. She had once again became the mother of dragons. 

She smiled as she left the streets of Pentos and found her way to a stable to purchase a horse, stolen gold in her purse, her children clinging to her underneath her cloak. According to the world at this point, Daenerys Stormborn...last surviving child of the mad king was dead. Daenerys, Mother of Dragons and Princess of Dragonstone was born. 

____

Jon  
Nothing could have prepared Jon for the moment Robb and he walked through the God’s Wood to find Ned Stark standing solemnly by the Heart Tree. Robb seemed to be sweating enough to fill a bucket, but Jon had to swallow back a sob as he met the eyes of his uncle. 

As they walked forward, Jon felt a pressure at the back of his head and a heat press over him, but it was gone as soon as it had come. 

He suddenly found himself wanting to say a million different things and ask just as many questions. He knew the truth of who he was, but he had never spoken to someone who could tell him of his mother. Tell him the truth of what she was like. 

“Father,” Robb said as they came to stand in front of Ned. 

“Boys,” Ned Stark said and Jon was struck with how underneath the disapproval in his uncle’s face he could hear the amusement in his voice. It would have been there the first time around, wouldn’t it? 

Jon felt like he was going to get a headache from all the puzzles around him. He needed to find Sansa and see if she had woke to her future self as well. 

“Do you want to tell me where you were and what you were doing?” Ned said quietly. Jon remembered this question. They had lied the first time around and the punishment had been that much worse. This time he opened his mouth and met his father’s eyes before Robb could bumble his way through excuses. 

“We went to Wintertown and had ale at the tavern. There was a storyweaver there and a merchant from Braavos,” Jon pressed out quickly. Robb was looking at him, his mouth askance. 

Ned looked even more amused. Jon knew he was acting out of character. He had most often stood behind Robb and let himself be dragged into all types of scraps while Robb made their excuses. 

“I know there is a storyweaver there. I asked him to come to the hall tomorrow eve to tell them after dinner....I suppose you both have heard them all at this point?” Ned gravely remarked and Jon felt shock settle. 

The first time around this had not happened. He knew it had not, but he did remember his uncle saying something about unknown consequences when they lied the first time around and said they’d been lost in the woods after hunting.

“NO!” Robb said loudly and Jon was shaken from his thoughts. 

“We only heard on story about Aegon the Conqueror,” Jon said, watching his uncle carefully. He could not help, but be slightly surprised when no reaction was had to his nephew’s namesake. Jon supposed his uncle had done his best to ignore the truth to best not react to it.  
He swallowed thickly at the emotion’s swelling in him again. 

“I suppose if you boy’s can devise some sort of consequence, you could be allowed in the great hall tomorrow eve,” Ned said in offering. 

Both boys paused and Jon waited to see if Robb would speak. 

His cousin did not, so he took up the mantle. 

“What about if we took to clearing the old broken tower? It is sturdy enough for moving about and there are packed items within it’s rooms still intact?” Jon slowly asked. The broken tower had been destroyed the first time around by the Bolton’s. He doubted there was anything of importance inside, but it was fairly miniscule of a task and would take much time where he could be busy enough to think and Sansa and Arya to meet with him. 

“I suppose that would be agreeable. Robb?” Ned asked and Robb enthusiastically agreed. 

“Good...get to bed, boys.” 

Robb and Jon were both happy to see the small side door open when Ned led them back to Winterfell.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The beginnings of a plan.

The Second Summer 

Jon quietly closed his door and leaned his head against it. He took several deep breaths, trying to calm himself. It had taken everything in him to not want to throw his arms around his uncle and confess the whole sordid tale. 

It would have taken exactly half a second for Lord Stark to think he needed a maester and confinement for being insane. It didn’t help that the pressure in the back of his head was becoming more and more insistent. 

“Much trouble, your grace?” Arya’s teasing voice made him spin around. Arya and Sansa both were waiting for him. Arya leaning against the wall and Sansa sitting in his one rather uncomfortable chair. 

She made it appear to be a throne as she peered at him curiously. 

“Father...Robb…,” he choked out and pushed back hard at the well of emotion threatening to overcome him. He looked at them both carefully. 

“Have you had the opportunity to see your Lady Mother?” he asked carefully. 

“She had already taken to chambers,” Sansa said matter-of-factly, “Arya took stock of everyone’s placement when she...arrived.”

“Father? Robb?” Sansa questioned. 

Jon could not help but grin, “Aye, hale and hearty.” 

Sansa and Arya grinned back at him. 

“Now, what are we to do first?” Arya finally questioned as she flung herself onto Jon’s bed. 

She was met with two equally blank looks. 

“I admit, I do not even know where to begin to start,” Sansa finally answered. Jon sighed, feeling the ache in head that had begun earlier start to blossom into true spots before his eyes. 

“We begin with a night’s rest and then enjoy breaking our fast with the family that is here tomorrow. Then we will figure what we are to do first,” he instructed and for once was grateful that neither woman argued with him. 

The next morning turned to be a better opportunity than any of them could have thought possible. Lady Stark had taken to the nursery with Rickon, who had developed a strong cough. Sansa could vaguely remember Rickon being sick the first time. 

Lord Stark had to ride from Winterfell in a rush to handle a land dispute some few hours away by horse. He had taken his heir and spare with him, so Robb and Bran were gone as well. Jon had been grateful that he had not been taken a long as well. The first time he remembered feeling left out and unworthy. Things had changed immensely from the first time around. 

The only one not accounted for was Theon Greyjoy, but Arya was happy to report he had slunk off to Wintertown directly after Lord Stark had left with the boys. 

The hardest thing had been figuring what to do with Septa Mordane. Finally, Sansa had begged off lessons, citing a stomach ache and Arya just had not gone. Sansa felt that the Septa had only acquiesced with her so quickly, because there were several praying her moon blood would soon be upon her. 

Sansa’s lips twisted a wry grimace. Her entire purpose to life, according to good Southron women, would become apparent at her first moon blood. Arya was watching her funny as they climbed the stairs in the broken tower. 

“I was thinking on how a woman’s entire purpose on Westeros supposedly changes the moment her first moon blood arrives by Southron standards,” she said casually as they climbed. Jon faltered ahead of them only momentarily and then quickly started climbing at a faster rate. 

“You do know you will have to marry as well?” she called out teasingly and could not help but laugh when he looked behind his head and shot her a baleful look. 

“Perhaps, Margaery Tyrell…” Sansa murmured and yelped when Arya kicked at her. 

“We have to get him on the iron throne first, sister,” Arya stated, halfway irritated at Sansa already starting her machinations. Try as she might, Arya would never be able to handle Sansa’s adept ability to maneuver through the game of houses. She liked to focus on just stabbing them with the pointed end. 

Sansa sighed as they reached the top and came into the open enclosure, “Sister, I would have him married tomorrow and a babe in a good-cousin's belly by the next new year if able before even the glimmer of the Iron Throne occurs to anyone else.” 

“Sansa, please,” Jon sounded pained as he watched her and Sansa simply tutted at both Jon’s and Arya’s desire to not do what was needed. 

“Just do not expect me to lay back and let some man in between my legs after vows before a heart tree...I am not cyvasse piece,” Arya bluntly told Sansa, making sure to nip whatever ideas were headed in that direction in the bud. 

“Are you sure?” Sansa said offhandedly, “You would not want to marry a Dornish man? I hear they like their woman feisty and fighting.”

Arya glared at her, “I will not marry.”

Sansa finally gave a slight shrug and gave the conversation over the more important things at hand. 

Things were not particularly clear of what they should do, but regardless all three siblings knew what they should and could not do. 

“We cannot afford to go south,” Sansa said as she settled herself onto a boulder that had once been part of the ceiling of the broken tower. Jon was still moving around making sure they would not be overheard. 

Arya had someone managed to find a stick and was twirling it as she would have a fighting staff. She kept tripped over her skirts. 

“How long till you think?” she asked as she finally completed a twirling move and landed gracefully. 

Sansa had been thinking that through. 

“I believe we have several moons before the raven and our wolves,” Sansa said slowly. Jon and Arya listened with interest as she seemed to grow more quiet with introspection. Sansa plotting their course was the best action and both Jon and Arya knew it. Jon was of the opinion if they had survived the war with the dead the first time, he would make Sansa Hand of the King and damned be anyone that had an issue with it. 

Sansa finally looked up and met Jon’s eyes. 

“The three-eyed Raven spoke clearly, Jon. We must put you on the Iron Throne and sooner rather than later,” she flatly said, but the stiffness of her back told of her preparation to argue. 

Jon growled irritated, “That is all fine and well, cousin, but what do you plan for us to do with the Baratheon sitting the iron throne currently?” 

Arya hummed in agreement, “Sansa, you know as well as I, that father is not going to just bend the knee to Jon the minute we admit we know his heritage. In father’s mind, Jon is still just a bastard. A royal one, but still a Blackfyre.” 

The look Sansa shot both of them could have frozen fire if either of them had been of a mind to start one. 

“We will not be mentioning our goals at first,” she said, ice chipping with every syllable, “We will have to work in the shadows and I fear Robert Baratheon needs to die before ever leaving the Red Keep.” 

Jon’s head shot up and he made to start arguing, but Sansa held her hand up and halted him. 

“You are Aegon Targaryen, named for your brother who had his head bashed in before he even saw his first birthday at the order of the man you are about to argue to let live,” she said quietly and Jon froze as her words grew ever harder and colder. 

“You had a sister, Rhaenys. They said her laughter was like bells and she had a gentler spirit than the Targaryen blood had seen in a long while. The very Kingsguard who were to protect them let that monster Clegane in to rape and murder her mother before the child’s very eyes. Do you even want to know what they say he did to her...a child...your blood,” Sansa did not stop meeting his eyes. 

Jon felt his blood begin to rise, “Enough,” he spat, but Sansa did not listen. 

“The stories traveled in less than savory circles and Joffrey repeated them to me when he took me through Elia’s quarters of the red keep, the blood still stained to stone. King Robert refused to allow it to be vanished so that if he ever needed to teach Cersei a lesson of what could happen, he had her gilded cage ready. Do you want to know where Joffrey planned to put me after we wed?” 

Jon’s face was growing colder by the moment, but Sansa knew she could not stop. 

“And what of your Aunt? You promised to protect her when she finally came home to Westeros and declared her armies for you? You told her if there was any way you could have offered vengeance for the man who sent assassins across the sea to kill her and her babe, that you would have delivered it. She will be coming home, Jon. Better to make sure she is safe from any Baratheon or Lannister before the day comes.” 

Jon stood to his full height and repeated with more force, “I said ENOUGH.” 

Sansa finally stopped talking and stood gracefully. She gathered her skirts and curtsied as graceful as she had when he had been crowned before the heart tree. 

“Your Grace, my King, brother of my heart... we cannot afford to show mercy to those that we know do not deserve it. Acting with honor does not mean sweeping the injustices of the past away. Gregor Clegane, Robert Baratheon, Tywin Lanister. They will all need to be brought to justice to bring Dorne into the fold for the murder and attempted house destruction of your family,” Sansa said as she stayed in a full curtsy, obviously waiting for something. 

“Cousin, sister...Sansa...please, rise...do not do this,” Jon begged as Sansa did as he beckoned and stepped closer to him. 

“I need you as family and advisor...not as a supplicant, please do not…” he found himself begging. 

“I will always be at your side, my cousin...brother in my heart, but someone must remind you it was weakened honor and lies that brought about the destruction of our family the first time around. We cannot let that happen again,” she said quietly. 

“Aye,” Jon met her eyes, “I promised fire and blood to those that sought the destruction of house Stark and House Targaryen and that is what we will bring. Winter is coming and I will see those that would watch the world die in ice, burn in all seven hell’s.” 

The whistling sound of a flying dagger struck between Jon and Sansa, embedding itself into a crack in the wall. 

“We will see them burn...Lannister, Frey, Bolton...all those that treachery dogs their every step…in the end those that stand with Targaryen and Stark may survive,” Arya agreed as they all stood as one, but no closer to figuring their next step than they had been in the beginning. 

Jon began to walk away and made himself keep going when he heard Sansa turn back to Arya to remark, “About Robert Baratheon…” 

Jon was not a fool. He had been forged into a King by the blood, fire, winter, and ice. The signs of all both of his houses. He knew that King Robert had to die...even deserved to die by his own actions, but there was a part of Jon that mourned the fact that his uncle was going to mourn a man who held not a bit of the honor that Ned Stark had in his own pinkie finger. 

Jon stopped for a moment, having a second where he actually wished he could descend to the Stark crypts and kneel before the likeness of his uncle, the man he had called father. That he could kneel and promise before the God’s that the type of king he would become would be a king worth kneeling for. 

He promised that one day he would kneel before the Heart Tree again, first before the sept as his Northern blood demanded, and the oath he took would be to serve the realm and all those in it. 

First, though, they had to make sure to stop those that would harm it before his reign could begin and stop the Night King before he destroyed them all. 

Several hours later, Arya Stark found herself trying to handle the ridiculous heat she was no longer used to. 

The great hall was warm and Arya felt herself sweating through the thin dress she wore. She grimaced and looked up to Sansa who was already seated and in conversation with Jeyne Poole. She tried without result to catch her sister’s eye. She needed breeches and shirts and Sansa had promised her the night prior. 

Resigning herself to clumsiness and uncomfortable large amounts of material she flung herself into the chair next to Theon. He looked at her and opened his mouth to speak, but Arya beat him to it. 

“I am sitting here because I want to be able to hear the storyweaver, not because I am inviting conversation from you,” she snarled and tried not to feel any type of sympathy when Theon’s mouth shut quickly and his eyes darted to the other side of the room. 

She followed his eyes and her back stiffened. Jon was talking with someone she recognized easily. Howland Reed had appeared with his own fist of men two weeks before the snow’s had made travel nigh impossible toward the end. He had immediately sequestered himself with Jon and made his oaths. 

“Who is that?” Theon asked, seeming to forget her earlier sharpness. Arya sighed before answering his curiosity. Sansa had made it clear that they needed to be drawing Theon in, not pushing him further away. She had even mentioned possibly marrying him after sanding down his rough edges. 

Arya felt like there were a few to many rough edges on the Kraken Lordling, but then again Theon also did not know he was set to inherit nothing. Displaced by a girl and that gave Arya a small bit of pleasure. 

“That is Lord Howland Reed of Greywater Watch,” Arya said quietly. 

“The frog-eaters?” Theon laughed, but abruptly stopped when Arya shot him a cold look. 

“Just as you descend from the Naga King, regardless of how diluted that blood has become,” Arya paused to pay closer attention to Theon’s face, “The Reed’s descend from nobility around the time of the Marsh King. A daughter of the king was given to the son of the Winter King to secure the alliance and bring the North together as one kingdom. For centuries the Reed’s have stood by Stark. They are the longest and most loyal of all our vassals and are worthy of our respect, not condemnation.” 

Theon’s face did the most peculiar thing of first being angry, embarrassed, and finally shamed. Arya tried not to show to much relief at the sight of Theon Greyjoy being capable of shame at this point, however, if he showed shame then perhaps Sansa was correct in her plan to draw Theon even closer to the family. 

“I am not a Stark,” he muttered and Arya snorted. 

“You are more Stark than Greyjoy, Theon. You might have been brought as a hostage, but you will leave a brother of one sort or another,” she said blithely and turned her back completely to face Bran who sat to her other side. 

“Climb anything interesting?” she asked, completely cutting off any way Theon would have to respond. 

She’d still keep him under a watchful eye, however. He would not be given the opportunity to betray them this time around. 

Arya watched as Jon put a hand on Howland Reed’s arm and glanced around quickly before giving him a decisive nod. She watched him slowly move from the hall and out the great doors, Lord Reed following several paces behind.

That was interesting enough and certainly had not happened the first time around. Of course, this entire night had not occurred the first time around either. 

\--------

Jon walked steadily as not to draw attention to himself. He knew the rest of his family were seated and did not expect anyone to be paying too much attention to what the bastard of Winterfell was doing. He consciously knew he was being tailed, but at his own direction. He led into a deserted antechamber. Often used when celebrations were being held in the hall. 

Lord Reed appeared in the doorway only moment’s later and shut the door with latching after walking in. 

Jon watched him hesitantly. 

“Is something wrong, Lord Reed?” he asked as he tried to gage what the man had requested a private audience for. 

Lord Reed looked to him and seemed to be trying to consider something. Finally, when he spoke it was slow and deliberate as if trying to emphasize he knew what he was saying and believed it to his very core. 

“Eons ago, my people knelt to your ancestors. Eons after that your ancestors knelt to the other part of your heritage. My people swore never to kneel before the Dragon until he or she carried the blood of the Winter King of who we pledged fealty. I came to see you for myself, see how you had grown, but I never expected to see a man grown in a boy’s body with knowledge he was not supposed to know,” Howland Reed stopped and Jon could have sworn he was emotional. 

Then his eyebrows shot up when the man withdrew his sword and knelt, the sword pointing down. 

“Aegon Targaryen of House Stark and House Targaryen, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Protector of Westeros and all mankind. Lord Dragon and King of Winter...I pledge my sword, all the swords of my house, and every able bodied man, woman, and child to your cause in the name of the House of Reed. I swear it by the Old Gods,” Lord Reed said and Jon swallowed thickly. 

He did not know how the man knew, but he would not turn away the first Lord to pledge to him in truth. 

“I, Aegon Targaryen, accept your pledge in the name of both House Targaryen and House Stark. You and all those you serve will be welcome at my table...when I have a table that is…and I pledge to do my best to always protect all of my people, I swear by the Old Gods,” Jon finished solemnly. 

“Rise, please, Lord Reed,” Jon finally said and reached down to help the man on his feet. He motioned to a table and indicated him to sit, “It appears we have much to talk about and we had best make it quick. I am afraid my presence will be noticed if I am not there for the story weaving.” 

Lord Reed nodded and began, “My son Jojen is what you would call a greenseer...we believe your brother, Bran, is one as well….”  
\------

Sansa watched as Jon slipped back through the doors and quietly made his way to a back table. She huffed in irritation. He should be at the table with them and Mother was still locked away with Rickon in confinement. There was no excuse. She stood and pursed her lips when half the table stood with her. 

“Sansa?” Jeyne sounded confused and Sansa gave her what she hoped was a comforting smile. She was struggling with the difference between comforting and placating as of late. Jeyne knew her well enough to tell the difference and had cornered her earlier in the day. 

Barely twenty-four hours into what she was terming the awakening and she was already struggling to stay above water. She would adapt and learn and get better though. There was time yet and Arya had already set something in motion with the drunkard of a king currently in Jon’s castle. Sansa tried not to give too much thought to how Arya had set something in motion from Winterfell at the age of twelve. 

She was only slightly more worried about what they would do with Stannis and Renly. Renly would have to be treated with and cajoled into kneeling. 

Stannis would never bend the knee and Sansa was not of a mind to spare anyone that would burn a child, especially his own. Sansa wondered if Dany would be of a mind to have Drogon burn him to a crisp. Sansa supposed it would not be fitting since this Stannis had yet to do anything to deserve such. 

There was also the matter of all three of Cersei’s brood. Power could not be left with Joffrey for long and Cersei could never be allowed to rise to any sort of influence, be it Queen Mother or usurper Queen. 

She was finally in front of Jon and she peered around the table at the rag tag group of small folk and merchant son’s with him that stood as soon as she stopped in front of them. 

“Brother-mine,” she said familiarly and watched as they and those around immediately took in her tone and manner. 

“Yes, sister-dearest?” Jon seemed more amused by anything. 

“I would have you sit with Jeyne and I this evening. Father is busy with hosting as Mother is with Rickon, Robb is busy entertaining Bran, and Theon is watching after Arya,” Sansa said a plea that Arya did not skewer her later for referring her as someone to be looked after. 

“It is improper with this many unmarried gentlemen in the hall for us to be unchaperoned,” she finished with what she knew to be her most blinding smile at the table. Jon’s eyes were crinkled with mirth around the edges and he gamely rose and offered her his arm. 

“Your royal highness,” his voice sounded in jest, but Sansa saw the truth in his eyes as he led her away. 

“You should not jest so,” she said quietly and was only slightly surprised when he stopped and said low enough for only to hear. 

“No one else may know yet, but there is not a Stark here that is not a Prince or Princess of Winterfell. My family is royal on both sides and will be respected as such from both sides,” he said seriously and Sansa swallowed hard. 

“As you command, Your Grace,” she said just as quiet as he had been. They reached the high table and Jon escorted Sansa back to her seat, greeted Jeyne with a small bow, and sat himself. Sansa could not help but notice the pleased smiled her father gave them and she found herself smiling back and feeling genuine mirth at the small pleasure of just being alive for the first time since she could remember. 

Her attention was drawn to a man that was moving to the forefront of the table with eyes watching his every move. 

“My Lords, Ladies, friends, and mayhap a foe...My name is Monterio and I shall be weaving tales of far of land’s and some quite close to home,” the man began with an embellished bow and slowly begin to speak of heroic princes and men and women both from the age of heroes. 

Sansa felt herself become slightly enraptured to her delight at the man’s incredible story weaving and it must have been hours later when he finished up with the tale of Vermax and his rider Jacaerys. She found herself watching Jon at this point more than Monterio. Jon seemed enraptured, but then so did Robb and Bran. She vaguely remembered sneaking into the crypts to look for the hidden clutch left behind. 

She smiled to herself as she thought about what Robb and Bran would think when Danaerys came home with her three children.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Surprises that are not wholly unwelcome is a rare thing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate having to come up with Chapter titles. Next multi-chaptered story gets named with numbers.
> 
> Thanks for the lovely comments and thanks for keeping it polite and positive! I know I can come across strong when it comes to my stance on feedback. 
> 
> This is how I view it. 
> 
> Authors write fan fiction as an outlet or escapism or comfort for the own head cannon when source material does not go with how we viewed the situation. I, however, fully support the right of the people in charge of "cannon" to do what they will with their story. So on the other side of it, people flock to create "what ifs" and "fix its" and sometime just good old enjoyable stories. It's personal on every persons level. If I go on someone tribute to the fandom and lay into how I think this is wrong or that is wrong or this is what my "head cannon" is or how the "cannon" should have been then I am spitting in that person's face. 
> 
> People do this for love of the worlds and I have seen fandom's come together to forge AMAZING friendships. I have followed author's into new fandom's because of those friendships. Fandom has gotten me through so many tough times in my life and created friendships when I considered myself a pure loner. 
> 
> So, when I see hatred and vile from two warring factions over who is going to be in a relationship with who or the writer's should have done this or even, God forbid, the author should have gone another direction I cringe and honestly it makes me incredibly sad. 
> 
> Be passionate about your ship and be passionate about your work and the author's you read, but being passionate does not translate to being cruel. I see a lot of cruel on so many amazing works. 
> 
> You will never find me shaming your pairings or choices. I might not write in my imaginings a character the way you enjoy. I write good people as villains and villains as good people. It does not detract from cannon portrayal, it just means I enjoy looking at it from another angle. What-If and what-nots are my game to wordplay. Peace and loves to you all.

Sansa turned in her furs to look to the window where morning’s light seeped through the small blocked openings. The light danced over the room in a myriad of rays and she could not help but sigh happily at the simplicity of such beauty. 

It had been night for so long. 

It would not be long now that the world would begin to shift in ways she could not control, but for just a moment in time her entire family was safe and in Winterfell, minus an adopted dragon sister. The thought of Danaerys brought a small bit of sadness to her heart. Dany was alone and across the narrow sea.

Her story would begin in earnest soon and Sansa could not help but hope they would be bringing her home sooner than later. There was a large part of her that wanted to sit back and give into the fantasy of Jon leaving to bring his aunt home. They would sail into White Harbor and Sansa would be there to greet them with a retinue worthy of a princess returning home after being forced to live on foreign soil for years. . 

She stood and walked to her window looking down at her view of Winterfell. Her window did not face anything particularly interesting, but she found comfort in the fact she looked over a smaller view of her home compared to the view Robb had as heir. The simple fact that she was not in charge all together was a relief in itself. 

She knew that these times of only scheming in quiet would not be for long. She was not a stupid girl and she knew that Jon was going to have her as an advisor one way or the other. She would have to dissuade him of that silly notion of making her, a girl of twenty or so years by the time he took the throne, as Hand to the King. The nobility would never accept that as a wise decision and he must be seen to make wise decisions. There must never be an opportunity to compare him to his late grandfather King. Jon must be as just and true as a Stark of old and strong and unbreakable as a Targaryen. 

She thought back to several weeks prior, when the storyweaver had come to Winterfell, and of Lord Howland Reed pledging to Jon as Aegon Targaryen. As much as Sansa was appreciative to the loyalty and pledge, she had been dissatisfied of the surprise. Especially with Jojen having named Jon, Arya, and herself as traveling back to the beginning. He did not know if Dany had traveled back as well, being unfamiliar with the dragon princess. 

It was rather disconcerting to have someone know, when they had yet to decide who they would speak the truth too. Lord Reed had assured her when she had managed to find him before the heart tree the next morning that he was not a threat in the least and he was there to help. He had also taken the time to explain that he knelt before Jon, not because of Targaryen blood, but because of his connection to the King’s of Winter. He was the first heir to the Southron throne that was a blood claimant to the Northern crown. 

Sansa found it interesting that the Lord’s of Grey Watch had gone so many centuries with no one realising they only ever pledged to House Stark and nowhere in there pledges had there ever been deference to a Southron King. 

It was a move in the game of thrones that Sansa admired greatly, much to her amusement, regardless of her uneasiness of more people knowing the truth. 

A knock on her door drew her attention away from the view and her thoughts. 

“Enter,” she called out and smiled when her mother came through the door. Things had not gone so easy with her Lady Mother this round. 

Sansa knew her mother only wanted what was best for her, but Lady Catelyn Stark and her daughter had severely different ideas of what was in the future for her daughter. Sansa knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that she would need to marry for alliance, but Jon had been insistent for weeks now that she would marry only who she wished to marry. 

He did say he reserved the right to kill whomever necessary if her choice led to her being hurt. He really was sweet, if still somewhat naive over his ability to keep her from harm. The game left no one unhurt, even when you knew the majority of the moves. 

Sansa was partially of the opinion, he’d prefer her marry a wildling of his choice so that she would be protected the rest of her days. She had to admit that a wildling husband would surely scare of would be attackers. 

“Good morrow, Mother,” Sansa greeted Catelyn Stark and gave a slight curtsy. 

Lady Catelyn smiled, “Good morrow, daughter. I hope you have rested well. We were all quite surprised you did not join us to break your fast nor did you join your father...or that boy...in the Godswood for prayer this morning as you have been.”

Sansa hummed in understanding. She had more or less forgone any platitudes she had once heaped upon the Seven. She did not disdain or speak ill of them to her mother, but she would not pretend to worship that which were not her Gods. 

Her father had been intrigued and curious when he began to find Jon and herself praying every morning before sunrise at the heart tree, but he had simply joined them in prayer and nothing was ever said of it. Sansa had a feeling her father felt a person’s beliefs were their own business, regardless of age, for she had not been ordered back to the sept at her mother’s insistence. 

She tried to be slightly more polite about the situation to Septa Mordane, but the woman refused to grasp that she would not marry a prince or a king. Sansa cringed as a memory popped into her mind from their past life and she could not shake it. 

_ “You should marry Aegon. It would cement any hard feelings after the war with the dead is over and Cersei removed about the Northern defection,” Danaerys said offhandedly as they both worked on embroidery.  _

_ Sansa was still trying to figure out how she felt about the Mother of Dragon’s beyond that Danaerys Stormborn was horrible at threading a needle and making even the simplest stitch.  _

_ “He is as my brother,” she answered, just as dryly as the other woman had as if they were talking about the weather and not political alliances with marriage.  _

_ Danaerys made an affirmative noise in her throat before reaching out and placing a glove over Sansa’s hand.  _

_ “I came home thinking to sit the Iron Throne as my birthright. I have given that over for my nephew, only because he is worthy and I am unable to bear children. I am putting aside the fact my father removed Rhaegar as his heir. I would see peace in my lifetime, Lady Sansa, for I have seen too little of it for my years.” _

_ Sansa was struck again with how much conviction the woman had and she remembered as always the fact that Daenerys had brought her army and her dragons to fight the others in place of taking the south for her own. _

_ Sansa would never forget the woman was fire and blood and destruction first as a conqueror, but she hoped she would never forget that first she was a girl who fought to become more.  _

_ She took a deep breath and looked up, directly at Daenerys, “I would tell you a story. I have spoken nothing beyond the bare minimum of my time in King’s Landing, The Eerie, and my marriage to Ramsey. I would speak of it to you, now, if you would hear it.”  _

_ Daenerys seemed to understand immediately why Sansa was asking this and she nodded in agreement.  _

_ By halfway through the Sansa’s retelling of her history, Daenerys had held her up for a pause and gone to the door. There she ordered spirits sent of the strongest variety. When Sansa finally finished, Daenerys picked up and told her own story as they drank throughout the day and well into the night. Sansa was almost of the opinion that Jon had toted them both to bed as they’d woken fully dressed in their chambers with a glass of water and a very small thimble of milk of the poppy.  _

_ There were no more talks of marriage for either of them after that, but many nights of long talks where friendship had kindled into something closer to siblings. She knew the rumors could perhaps harm them in the future, but she could not help but smile everytime she heard the men talk with respect of the woman in Aegon’s family being a wolf and dragon come to life.  _

Sansa snapped out of her memory to find her mother looking at her with worry. Sansa quickly tried to think of what her mother had said. 

“I apologize, Mother, what was that?” she finally conceded she was at a loss. 

“I asked if you have given any more thought to the idea of a southron match, sweetling? You used to dream of marrying noble knight and now you do not even want to discuss your future husband or how many babes you might have?” Lady Caitlyn finished recapping and Sansa cringed. 

She quickly thought through what she would say before reaching out and taking one of her mother’s hands in hers, as she had done to Dany so many years before. 

“I love you, Mother, and I know you do not understand, but I am of the North and if I marry it will be to a man of the North. Starks do not last long alone in the South without the pack and I would never wish to be without my pack...all of you.”

Lady Catelyn looked at her with sadness and pity, something that set Sansa’s teeth on edge. She was having a hard time remembering to edge her temper when it came to her mother’s slight prejudice against the north. She knew in her heart of hearts that Catelyn Stark did not mean anything by it and would consider the idea that she looked up the north with anything close to disdain ludicrous. There were times, however, that Sansa wished her father had forced the north way of life on his wife in their early years. Building the sept, allowing her freedom of treating the son he chose to raise as true anyway she saw fit, and not seeing that his own daughters were being molded in southron ladies rather than northern wolves had caused a great many difficulties for Sansa in the future. 

Then again, it was only her mother’s own machinations in her lessons with the Septa for Sansa’s first years that allowed her to survive the court in King’s Landing the first time around. 

So, Sansa found herself conflicted on whether to be grateful or resentful on a daily basis where her mother was concerning. 

Still, it did no good to foster bad blood when her mother would have enough to feel guilty for soon. 

Sansa did know enough to know Lady Catelyn Stark would struggle with her inability to love a motherless and fatherless child when the truth of Jon’s parentage came to the forefront. Sansa wished she could feel a little bit upset about that, but Jon had been her savior for too long now and her mother dead too many years. 

“Mother, would you show me what is flourishing currently in our glass houses today?” she did find herself asking as she flicked through her dresses, happy to see that her current wardrobe was becoming more of the thickened wools that were practical instead of the silken monstrosities she had favored once in another life. 

She smiled at the delighted smile that graced her mother’s face. She really should try harder. 

She finally found the pale grey she was looking for and pulled it out. Her hands moved over the stitching she had finished just the night before of the winter roses that surrounding the weirwood tree with the laughing face. It was in direct homage to Jon’s mother and while it might make her father do a double take, Jon would know from the beginning that it was a show of support in Sansa’s own subtle way. 

Her Aunt Lyanna had been the first Knight of the Laughing Tree, but Sansa Stark had taken the mantle up going on ten years now and anyone who saw her as anything less than defending those who could not defend themselves would rue the day they ever underestimated her. 

“To the glass houses?” her mother asked as Sansa finished lacing her dress, her mother coming behind her to help finish. 

“Yes, Mother. To the glass houses,” Sansa agreed amiably and smiled brilliantly. Her armor on for the day. 

\-----

Daenerys smiled as she watched Drogon chase after Viserion and Rhaegal. She was rather pleased with herself at the moment, even as she rode into the dead of the heat with limited supplies. 

She took a moment to look south, where she knew her intended made his way to Pentos, expecting to find a bride that he had bought. She reached down to touch her stomach and closed her eyes tight and swallowed thickly. She could go forward and recreate her son, she could put forth her claim and not step aside for Aegon...the three eyed raven had been clear though. Aegon must sit the iron throne and the world must not freeze. 

Then when her eyes opened and steeled with resolve she turned her horse northward. She had made her choice long ago and she would fight this war with family and not alone. Then mayhaps after it was over, she could find time for a child of her own blood. 

Several, Daenerys thought gleefully as the implication settled upon her. She would be a mother twice over. Once to dragons and once to her own babes. 

Her destination was not so far away from the great city of Pentos she had fled and within three days she had sent her three children to fly among the clouds and made her way into the traveling group of merchants, tradesmen, and other people of ill repute. 

She knew little of where the man she sought was prior to her marriage to Khal Drogo, but she remembered enough to know the group of travellers who he had traveled with to Pentos. She pulled her scarf tighter around her hair and slightly drooping to obscure her face and went in search of a bear.

When she found him, it was by the grace of her quick movement that he did not knock her down. He came flying from a tent with a screeching woman yelling about not paying his debts the first time around and he knew better than to come ask for ale.

Daenerys stood looking down in amusement as he sputtered and rolled to his back. 

“That woman has the strength of ten men,” he muttered as he looked up and froze at the sight of her face. 

“I am in need of your service, good Ser,” she said in her sweetest voice, the one she knew was slightly on edge of patronizing. 

“I...what can I do for you, good woman?” the man asked in bafflement. 

Daenerys took that moment to smile brilliantly and reached out a hand to help him up. She dusted him off briskly as he looked at her slightly bemused. 

Then when he was standing straight, she removed her head scarf, only for him to go straight back down onto his knees. 

“Your Grace,” Ser Jorah Mormont kneeled in front of her, the picture of contrition. 

“Oh, do get up...and the correct address would be Your Royal Highness, Princess of Dragonstone. My own dear nephew is His Grace,” she said nonplussed as the man in question stood. 

“Your nephew?” Ser Jorah said weakly. Daenerys looked him over for anything that might slow them down, before turning and walking away briskly, knowing he would follow. 

“Yes, I believe you might have heard of him...they call him the bastard of Winterfell,” Daenerys said amused and watched as the man tripped over his own feet as he hastened to keep up with her. 

“Do keep up, Ser Jorah, we have an army to purchase in Astapor. I plan to be in Westeros within the year. The usurper has not long to live and Aegon will need our support,” Daenerys tossed behind her, glancing sideways at the child who was hidden in the shadows, watching as they walked away. 

“Fly little bird, fly,” she murmured as she continued to make plans in her head, her recalcitrant knight behind her. 

She did hope Sansa had put the pieces together as she had. 

Lord Varys should be brought to reason sooner than later. He wanted a Targaryen of the right side of the coin on the throne and you did not get more right sided than a Targaryen with a side of Stark. 

Daenerys found this version of Jorah Mormont interesting. He was not quite sold on his loyalty to her as of yet, not like the first time around where his instincts to protect her had been twinged with Viserys’s abuse, but they steadily began to build a friendship out of respect for his quiet strength and devotion and her strength of fire and unyielding focus. 

Within the two weeks they traveled from the plains between Pentos and Astapor they found a strange cadence of communication and debate that had been missing the first time around. Daenerys found herself rather enjoying this version of Jorah Mormont without his eagle eyed focus of intense devotion he had shown the first time around. 

He was still deferential, but actually argued with her on occasion. Great lengthy arguments of battle scenarios and strategy. She found a cyvasse board in a small village merchant tent their fifth day travelling and had bought it on a whim. After that their nights were filled with chatter over the board, each learning strengths and weaknesses from one another. 

It was the second week of travel that he broke down and told her of why he had been sent from his Northern home and that he had been contacted to spy on her and that was why he was travelling to Pentos to begin with. She found herself extremely pleased with his honest confession and confessed that she had been watching him close enough to know that he had not a chance so far to send a message or raven to King’s Landing. 

She told him she had dreams of prophecy and explained her strange knowledge from across the narrow sea on this fact. 

In their third and final week they split from their traveling caravan and rode into the desert, Jorah watching her strangely. There she summoned her children and they flew down to flank her. Drogon already the size of a small pony. She knew now after years of watching her children grow and struggle, that it was the sky and freedom to range and hunt game that was making them grow exponentially faster. At this rate, she would be able to fly again with six moons. 

Here in the dryness of the desert, she watched as Jorah Mormont went to one knee and swore an oath to protect her all her living days. She found herself somewhat overcome with emotion as here was the first man, two lives over, to be the first to swear to her, Daenerys Targaryen. 

She paused before responded and when did it was to give the Westerosi acceptance of the vow, “I vow that you shall always have a place by my hearth and meat and mead at my table, and pledge to ask no service of you that might bring you into dishonor. I swear it by the old gods and the new.”

As they neared Astapor, Daenerys could not help but become rather excited over the prospect of her army being returned to her and of Missandei. Her first female friend and advisor in truth. She also found herself spending hours thinking of the best route to take after freeing Astapor. She remembered too well the devastation of walking the road of Mereen, with children’s bodies hung to teach her a lesson. 

She remembered the struggle of the slaves to survive in freedom and she remembered a shepherd girl, burnt from dragon fire. 

She would do better this time around and when sailed home it would be with a strong backing of her own lands and armies. 

Daenerys watched as Astapor came into view and she grinned ruthlessly. Here was the beginning of her empire. Aegon the Conqueror’s blood singed in her body and above her in the sky she heard her children roar with fire. 

\----

Theon Greyjoy was not a good man. He wanted to be a good man and blustered about acting the opposite to hide that fact. He was loud and crass and ridiculous and could not ever forget he was a hostage of the crown. He also could not forget Robb, his brother chosen through friendship and raising. 

He had gone to the hot springs to bath, dipping under the water as he often did and allowing himself only a moment to pretend it was the sea and he was being blessed by the Drowned God. He went to emerge when suddenly he could not move, held beneath the water as if a tide pulled him down. Water filled his lungs and for a brief moment before the world went black, he swore he could taste the salt of the sea. 

_ “Wake,”  _ a disembodied voice said from somewhere deep in Theon’s mind as he fell further into a void. 

“ _ WAKE, MY SON,”  _ the voice resonated like a clanging drum and Theon could once again breath as hands pulled him from the water. 

“Theon! For fuck’s sake, wake up and breath!” a male voice ordered as Theon felt hands pressed into his chest and pumping. Then lips on his, breathing in life to his lungs, and then pressure to his chest again and he turned, coughing up water into the ground and hacking. 

When he could breathe again he looked up to find Jon standing over him. 

“Theon?” Jon asked hesitantly as images flashed into Theon’s mind, memories and situations that felt almost like a bad dream. Robb as king, Winterfell burning, jumping from the wall with Sansa, betrayal, redemption...and nothing. 

Then suddenly images of Dragons and riders soaring into the Winterfell yards. Jon, Aegon the Conqueror reborn, with his Aunt, the mother of dragons. Burning Ramsey, saving Sansa, and freeing Theon as Reek. 

Theon slowly shifted, wishing he had a sword, but moving forward anyway onto his knees. 

“My sword is yours, my King,” he croaked, head bowed as Jon breathed in harshly. 

“I accept your sword, Lord Greyjoy, Master of Ships,” he said in a voice that Theon had thought only moments to never know, but now remembered from many nights preparing battle plans. 

“Thank you,” he whispered. 

  
  



	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The God's choose and Daenerys is reminded that at heart she is a conqueror.

Sansa felt Theon’s eyes on her as she paced in front of the broken hearth in one of the upper rooms in the broken tower. She kept pausing and looking at him curiously. 

“You said it was the drowned God that brought you?” she asked again. 

“Yes, Princess,” Theon said dryly. His voice, not mocking, but slightly sarcastic. Sansa stopped completely and raised an eyebrow to him. If he had come back all the way, the man she had known moons prior would not have used that tone. 

“He did something,” Theon said by way of recognizing her confusion, “I remember, Sansa, everything I did and everything...the Bolton bastard did to us, but it doesn’t haunt my brain. I feel whole in a way I do not think I ever felt before.”

Arya hummed in understanding and then hesitantly spoke. 

“I killed a man,” she stated, “In this time...not the last.” 

Everyone turned and looked at her with shock. 

“WHO?” Sansa demanded before Jon could even open his mouth. 

Arya shrugged, sliding off her perch, and pulling her newly gifted needle. She began to perform the smooth, fluid movements Sansa knew was water dancing. 

“You remember when we were in Wintertown the other day and you saw a man that terrified you?” she said nonchalantly. 

Sansa froze. The man she had seen was one of the Stark soldiers that went with them to King’s Landing. He had been a turncloak and she had seen him standing in the crowd the day Joffrey had lopped her father’s head off. He had been grinning at her toothily and the looks he gave were not exactly innocent. 

She had told Arya that day. 

She sat with a huff, “Arya, you cannot kill everyone who ever hurt me in a timeline that no longer exists.” 

Arya raised an eyebrow as she looked back at her sister, “I can do whatever I want as long as the God of Death does not stop me. My point is that when I killed him I felt like I was fulfilling some sort of oath and a feeling of wholeness occurred within me. I think I received the God of Death’s blessing. I felt...righteous.”

“That’s exactly it,” Theon said suddenly and everyone turned to look at him. Sansa and Jon glanced at one another. 

“Of course, now we have God Touched,” Sansa finally grumbled, a part of her pleased however that no God, named or not, had decided to go mucking about her head and giving her an indescribable divine purpose. Her human purpose was perfectly acceptable and large enough for her. 

She looked up and met Jon’s eyes and could not help but laugh at the relief in his eyes. He might have some grand destiny, but they could agree that they much preferred their unnamed forest Gods and water sprites to those that tried to drown you and baptise you with blood. 

She began to turn when Jon said her name quietly. There was something about the tone that made Sansa know she was not going to love what was said. Arya seemed to excuse herself quickly, but Theon stayed. He was tugging at his dark hair and Sansa’s eyes narrowed at the both of them. 

“It will not be much longer before things begin to change that we will not be able to control. We cannot guarantee our safety, but I can do whatever I can to ensure my family stays safe,” Jon had that tone he took when he was going to brook no argument from her. 

“What would you do then? You cannot put me in a box and place guards at a gilded cage…” she began to snap and then abruptly shut up when Jon raised his hand. She glared and he met her eyes evenly. 

“I taught you that trick, Jon Snow,” she seethed, lashing out and growing red with fury when he choked back laughter. How quickly they turn...she thought bitterly. 

“Theon is going to make a point of being with you when you find yourself slipping away from everyone on your own. I know you’ve been going beyond the walls of Winterfell, Sansa, and I understand, but if something happened to you when we could have…,” Jon said quietly and there was a brokenness to his tone that made Sansa swallow hard. 

“Alright,” she whispered and looked to Theon. 

Theon who knew her when she came from the vale, shaking off the persona of Alayne Stone as she married Ramsay Bolton. Alayne has taught her humility and the importance of being kind in a way, but she had to be shed like a moth eaten fur so Sansa could be forged into what was needed to survive the new North. 

She liked to think she was beginning to find a balance of Alayne and Sansa. 

Theon who had sat with her as she cried over the last piece of dignity being stolen from her. Theon who regardless of being more afraid than alive, still jumped with her to freedom and willingly went to sacrifice his life to her husband to allow her time to escape. 

Theon whose hubris had betrayed their family long before he was humbled into a conscience. Theon who felt conflicted about being Stark or Greyjoy. Sansa took a deep breath and took a leap of faith. 

“I walk among the smallfolk and remember those that he killed and tortured. I walk among the trees and landscapes he destroyed to remember he is gone. I plan where I will watch him be hunted by Lady and where I imagine…” she stopped talking as Theon took her hand in his. 

“I will walk with you and see where I want Lady to chase him to before I fill his breast with arrows,” he said as solemn as a vow. 

“Yes,” Sansa agreed quietly then watched in shock as he took his sword from his side and knelt in front of her. 

“I know you do not trust me, Princess Sansa, but I find there is nothing more in this world that I want than your trust. I promise to always be at your side and to guard your back, to put your life before mine, and should you be sleign it will be because I am already no more. I vow to be your royal guard from this breath till my last. I swear this...,” Theon seemed to choke for a moment then continued, “before the Old Gods and the New, the Drowned God above them all.”

Jon watched as Sansa seemed to grow pale and then a blush spread across her face as well as she accepted the vow and returned her pledge. He began to walk away as he heard Theon standing and Sansa quietly remarked. 

“Do you know when I came back, I almost drowned as well? It was not because the Drowned God was calling me or anything of the such, but I was in the ridiculous bathtub…” 

Jon could not help but grin as he heard Theon laugh uproariously and Sansa join him a moment later. He would never tire of hearing Sansa truly laugh. 

\-----

Catelyn Stark felt she was a fairly even tempered woman. She knew that her children would probably disagree, but there were very few times where she had spoken out at her husband and none where she had spoken against him in public. 

Those time all concerned the bastard. 

She had thought it all in hand. Jon Snow seemed to have been leaning towards the black and the wall as was proper, but suddenly he seemed to be changing many things in his behaviour. 

She had known he often let Robb win when they trained in the yard when she was watching, lest she began heckling her husband to take even the privilege of training away. He generally went out of his way to avoid her path. She was walking to the glass houses when Sansa came beside her. 

They walked in companionable silence for a while before Sansa spoke and broke Catelyn’s heart. 

“It is not his fault,” she said calmly. 

Catelyn froze and turned to look at Sansa, but before she could rebuke her daughter from the uncomfortable topic Sansa continued. 

“One day, I think, you will regret it if you do not show him a modicum of kindness. He is our brother and he will always be our brother. He kind, brave, and loyal. He would never usurp Robb as Lord of Winterfell and honestly I have a good idea that he’d refuse everything to do with it and pout if someone made him do it. He loves us and he would love you. He was a motherless child and soon society would demand he become a fatherless child as well.” 

Then Catelyn watched as Sansa stopped and glided away to join the Greyjoy ward of all people. She was still in shock as she watched Sansa walk off, Theon Greyjoy a step behind her and silent, his hand on his side where it was likely a weapon existed. 

A loud noise caught her attention back to the yard’s and she swallowed when she saw the bastard with the practice sword at Robb’s throat. 

\----

Daenerys leaned back in the chair as she stared across the rubble that used to be called Douquor’s pit. Similarly ruined was Jothiel’s pit and numerous other ones across the city. Instead of letting the son’s of the harpy rise against her, she had brought the perpetrators she remembered from her last life to her now. 

Rhaegal and Viserion laid to her right and left while Drogon flew in circles above the city, still occassionally letting loose breaths of fire. 

Rhaegal and Viserion laid to her right and left while Drogon flew in circles above the city, still occassionally letting loose breaths of fire. 

She was unclear of how much time had past as her unsullied rallied up the last of the master’s left, but Jorah had been beside her the entire time as she stared out over the ruined expanse. 

“Your royal highness,” her loyal guard said as he came closer after speaking with an unsullied guard. She had been rather vexed to find Misassandei had not been with where she had originally. Of course, Daenerys was moons early as well. She looked at Jorah and found herself smiling to her surprise. She knew Jorah had been in love with her in the last life and that her own feelings were tender in nature, but she had no time in last life to dwell on love. She had been to busy planning to destroy a revolution and a restoration. Given her foreknowledge of the important matters to be dwelt on, she gave herself a brief moment to wonder what lied under his breeches. 

She met his eyes and found that she wanted to laugh even more at the absurd look of shock on it. 

“What is it, Ser Mormont?” she asked lightly. 

“We found her,” he said simply and nodded his head behind her. Daenerys turned and could have cried with joy at the sight of her. She swallowed hard, a bit surprised at the well of emotion. 

“Misassandei of Naath,” she said in way of greeting as the girl was led to her. 

“Your grace?” she asked, a question in her voice. 

“Princess,” Daenerys said lightly in response, knowing the translator was versed enough is Westerosi culture to know the correct salutations. 

To her surprise the former slave tilted her head. 

“You have conquered the red city of Astapor and have freed a shackled army who now chooses to serve you. Do you not plan to reign as Queen?” the girl asked and Daenerys leaned backed in consideration. She had not given much thought to exactly what she planned to do with her freed cities beside destroy the masters and build an army. 

“I suppose I am the Queen now,” she said thoughtfully, “A Queen in Essos of my own right and a Princess in Westeros because of my blood.”

“Well, regardless, we have an attack to plan and many master’s homes to search for gold,” Daenerys said before turning back to Missandei. She waved the girl to sit beside her. 

“I will need an advisor and a translator. I am told you have some skill with language and are familiar with cultures?” Daenerys said casually as the woman took a seat rather stiffly. 

“Yes, Queen Daenerys,” she said matter of factly, “May I ask what your plans are?” 

Daenerys smiled at her, “I have barely spoken my plans aloud to anymore, but for you I will give you an idea. From here part of the army marches to Yunkai to take it in my name while the rest of us go to Mereen to destroy the master’s there. From every city we will take a portion of the master’s wealth to rebuild and educate the populace on the new way of life for the Bay of Dragons. Once I have secured my reign, I will go across the Braavos with the other portion of wealth to meet with the Iron Bank if they have not sent someone to speak with me at that point. The Iron Throne debt will be paid, I will make sure my nephew is recognized as legitimate, and we will set sail for Westeros to help my nephew secure his throne and prepare for the great war of Winter,” Daenerys stopped when she realized both Jorah and Misassandei were looking at her flabbergasted. 

“That is very detailed, your Grace,” Ser Jorah said stiltedly. 

“I will need a warden for the Bay of Dragon’s. Someone to guard my seat of power while I wage war with my nephew,” Daenerys says as finally those she had sent to be rounded up were brought into the ruins and put on their knees in front of her. 

She stood and straightened her back and thought of the purest ice to be in her eyes. Sansa had always said when you must invoke fear instead of admiration, first think of ice in your veins, slowly freezing your blood from bottom to top until all that was left was a cold stare with no emotion. She in return had told Sansa that sometimes your enemies had to see the fire from your very soul in your eyes to understand the hell you would rain down on them if they did not bend to your will. 

“Masters of Astapor, once I allowed you to be referred to as the good masters and I tried to bargain with you and let you live. That was in error. I do not make the same mistake twice. Know this, I AM DAENERYS STORMBORN, OF HOUSE TARGARYEN, A DREAMER OF OLD VALYRIA, MOTHER OF DRAGONS, PRINCESS OF DRAGONSTONE, AUNT TO AEGON, SIXTH OF HIS NAME, THE LIGHTBRINGER, BRINGER OF THE SECOND SUMMER, AND IN HIS NAME AND IN THE NAME OF THE RIGHTS ALL MEN HAVE TO BE FREE, I SENTENCE YOU TO DIE BY DRAGONFIRE.” 

She stepped back as all three of her children flew in.

“Dracarys.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diverging from the past as new choices are made and plans come to fruition.

Ned Stark, Lord of Winterfell, was not a talkative man. He knew that he was respected and his word was believed, but that his opinion often fell short of verbose. Thus as he sat in his solar with his eleven year old looking at him expectantly after inquiring what his plans were for her in the future, he found himself at something of a loss. 

“Arya…” he started and stopped for what felt like the 100th time. 

“Father…” she responded evenly and met his eyes. 

Ned forced back the shivers at Arya’s intense stare. Something had happened going on four moons now with three of his children. Jon, Sansa, and Arya all were acting strangely and shortly after he had noticed, the Greyjoy lad had begun to act queer as well.

“Your mother and I will betrothe you, Arya, you know this,” Ned finally remarked. 

“To who? Surely you have an idea of who you would marry me to?” Arya shot back and Ned felt the urge to rub his temple. 

“I do not know, Arya. The Umber’s have been spoken of and your mother has made mention of a Riverland boy,” he answered. He watched as Arya seemed to lean back in thought. 

“No,” she finally remarked and Ned knew he was going to need something for his head now. 

“Arya...it is your…” he began, but his youngest daughter cut him right off. 

“I will not marry for anything less than the man I will describe to you. He must not be the first born, he must be strong and willing to allow me to be strong, he must want to travel and not be beholden to a fast, and he must always be willing to make the hard choice even when it appears to not be a righteous choice,” Arya remarked flatly and Ned felt his eyebrows raise into his hairline. 

Arya stood and looked directly at him and for some reason he took the time to notice a small stitching on the tunic she was wearing. Sansa had taken to tearing apart her old dresses and stitching them into a weird mix of boy clothes, with feminine aspects for Arya much to Catelyn’s chagrin. Above a breast pocket, near the collar, Sansa had stitched a wolf and a winter rose. It seemed everything Sansa stitched now had winter roses, direwolves, and heart trees on it. 

When he had come upon her at the heart tree he could have sworn she was stitching a dragon into a piece of black cloth, but he knew he must have been mistaken. 

“Father, I do not tell you this to be difficult, I tell you this to be honest. If I am betrothed to a man who does not fit my requirements, I will flee Westeros and go East,” he heard her statement and watched dazed as she marched back through the door. 

_ She is eleven. She will grow up from this in even a few more moons. She is a summer child, holding to summer child privileges.  _ Ned thought to himself, but found he could not even lie to himself for a minute. His three worrisome children no longer even halfway resembled the summer children they had been. 

Jon smiled and laughed as if he no longer felt the constraints of the birth everyone thought him to have. Sansa had turned from his wife’s influence of a southron flower into a fierce and cold northern star. She was more of the North than any of her siblings now it seemed. Then Arya...his Arya walked with the grace of a cat, but consistently surprised him with words beyond her age. 

A knock to his solar brought his attention back to the day. 

“Enter,” he called and sighed when Sansa walked through the door. 

“I suppose you have come to tell me your stipulations for marriage as well,” he said with just a bit of irritation. Sansa shot him an unimpressed look. 

“No Father, but if you would like to know them he must be raised in the North and the North entwined into his soul if not his blood,” she stated evenly before continuing, “I wanted to talk to you about the Broken Tower and the First Keep.”   
  


Ned sat back in interest, this was not something he had expected, though he had learned to not try and expect anything resembling normal from his three worrisome young ones. 

“Alright, Sansa, what is it you would like to know?” he asked cautiously. 

“Why do we not fix it? We are in a long summer and we have the extra funds, even with the storing we have started for Winter. The First Keep was the first thing built upon kneeling to Aegon the Conqueror and it still holds today. The bones must be good and we could easily outfit it for use,” she said offhandedly as if she were still thinking it through.

“Why?” Ned found himself asking. 

Sansa looked up startled. 

“Because winter is coming, Father, and we will need the room for the small folk. Wintertown should be bolstered as well and we should probably begin training more fighting men since raids will become more commonplace,” Sansa said as if it was obvious.

Ned blinked as he stared at his daughter, processing what she was saying. 

“And the broken tower?” he finally asked. 

Sansa seemed to become slightly sheepish, “Well..Father… there are many of us children and we will not all marry and leave. With a long winter being a forgone fact, would it not be prudent to fix the tower for one of us and spouse? Robb will need all the help he can get with the influx of extra small folk and even nobles who choose to send their families here from farther North for safety.” 

Ned looked at Sansa carefully before slowly asking, “Do you plan for yourself to be the one to make home with husband and babes in the broken tower?”

Sansa’s head shot up, “No! I...I would love to stay all the rest of my days to our home, but I know my destiny lies elsewhere for alliances and trust building. I will do my duty, even if it does not seem I am at the time.” 

The statement was confusing but Ned just nodded and smiled gently at his eldest daughter. 

“I know you will, Sansa, and I will think on the tower and the first keep,” he said quietly. He was rewarded with a bright smile and Sansa handing over several sheets of parchment she had sequestered in her skirts. 

“The preliminary account and financial estimates,” she said by way of explanation. Then she began to turn to leave before tilting her head slightly and curtsying to him. As always he found himself bemused when Sansa used courtesies in her dealings with himself and their people. 

“By your leave, Lord Father, I will see where Arya has run off too and see if we can help Jon in the stables. He was trying to round up some of the extra kittens for Wintertown,” she said and when he gave a slight nod she quickly exited. 

He watched her with a perplexed expression. It was not lost on him that Sansa had said she would marry a man raised in the North, but she never specified of the North. 

\----

Sansa carefully made her way down from her father’s solar. She bit her lip in concentration as she tried to play over what else needed to be said or planted before she sat her secret plans into action. 

Theon came up beside her as she made her way to where she had seen Jon and Arya vanish off to earlier. 

“Riders came in with word,” he murmured quietly.

Sansa stopped and turned to him with a raised eyebrow and halted as he pulled her into the shadows and pointed to the Maester who was hurrying across the yard towards where her father was. 

She sighed and said a prayer to the Old Gods. 

“It will not be long now,” she murmured, trying not to lean back into the warmth of Theon’s body as he stood with his front to her back as they watched. 

“News of the deserter came,” Theon continued. 

Sansa raised an eyebrow, “ It will be time to reveal ourselves to Father and Mother soon.”

She looked back at Theon and saw the grimace on his face. She could not help but reach up and brush the black locks back, her fingers curling in the strands like silk. 

“And Robb…” he whispered.

“We will not speak of what happened there, Theon. You are not that man anymore,” she said quietly. 

“With that thought, neither is Lord Frey or Ramsay,” Theon said, not harshly, but slightly biting. Sansa stilled and glared at him. 

“Ramsay Snow is an evil and cruel person as is Lord Frey and they will both either burn or have their heads chopped off. You were a weak man who made bad choices, but grew stronger than steel after being tempered and forged. The same as me,” she bit back. 

“We are not the same, you are…” he stopped as if searching for the perfect word. 

“A Lady? Weak and a betrayer? I signed my father’s death warrant by my actions the first time around and led to Robb ever being in the situation to be murdered as well as countless of others. For that matter, your actions were a result of my going to Cersei the first time as well. We would have been well on the way to the North and out of her grasp if I had never said a word,” Sansa knew she was growing louder, but Theon just grasped at her shoulder and she gasped as he spun them further into the shadows. 

“You were a child,” he growled down at her. 

“So were you!” she snarled back. 

They glared at one another, both tense as if waiting for another attack. 

“Ned!” the sound of her mother yelling and running toward the tower jerked their attention away from one another. 

They watched as she stumbled, her hand grasping a letter in her hand. 

“Do you think?” Sansa began, but practically jumped onto Theon when Arya’s voice came from above them. 

They both looked up to find her sitting atop a broken wall. 

“Robert Baratheon is dead, Stannis Baratheon is dead, and Renly Baratheon is dead,” she said matter-of-factly. 

Sansa gaped, “That was not the plan!”

Arya just shrugged, “They all needed to die. Jon will ascend much easier with all three of the Baratheon’s dead.” 

“You just put Joffrey on the throne!” Sansa snarled at her sister who did not seem to be worried at all. 

“No, we just made it easier to put a King on the Iron Throne that  _ no one  _ will accept. Jon Arryn still lives and he  _ knows  _ the truth about Cersei and the children,” Arya shot back. 

“I am aware he is alive, Arya. I was there when we made the list of people who needed to be stopped and we agreed you would handle the deaths and only  _ those _ deaths,” Sansa sighed in surrender as she leaned against the wall and Arya jumped down. 

“Who all has died?” Theon asked as he took in the two girls. He knew much of the plans, but knew there were machinations occuring that he had been left in the dark with. He actually figured there were things they had left Jon in the dark with. 

“It was supposed to be Robert Baratheon and Peter Baelish. Tywin Lannister and Joffrey will die soon as well, but the vacuum was too great to control with killing them all at once. The last thing we need is a Tyrell or a Martell declaring themselves King or Queen of the Seven Kingdoms before we are ready to put Jon on the throne,” Sansa answered wearily. 

Then she seemed to look around and looked back to Arya, “Where’s Jon?” 

Arya smiled, “With Robb and preparing to go after the deserter with Father.” 

Theon sighed and stepped away from the girls. 

He turned and bowed low, “Princess Sansa, Princess Arya.” 

Then he spun back around and went to join Jon and Robb as Arya cursed at his back. He could not help but chuckle. The she-wolf would never conform to the royal standards that were her due. 

\-----------

Jon slept fitfully. He felt as though he awoke every few moments and his blood was growing hotter and hotter under his skin. It felt like a hundred thousand pinpricks of lava coursing through his veins, threatening to explode. He felt the sweat pouring off of him and his covers becoming soaked, the chill of the air setting in fast, but still he burned. 

Gasping he sat up straight in the bed and jumped out so fast his feet caught in his covers and he fell to the ground. He grimaced as he felt the stone floor rip the skin open on his knees. Pushing himself up he reached over to grab at the trouser’s he had worn the day before and hastily dressed, shoving his feet in his boots. 

Lastly, he grabbed his cloak and hurried out his door, trying to be quiet. The moment he was outside he realized it was in the very early hours of dawn. The sun only starting to rise. He paused briefly as he heard the direwolves whining in the kennels where Lady Stark had insisted they stay till they were trained. 

He did not know at first where he felt himself being pulled but by the time he came to the two giant, stone direwolves that guarded the family tombs. 

He stared at the entrance for a moment, trying to shake off the last of sleep after a long day. The deserter was dead and their wolves found. Everything was going to begin moving very fast now 

He grasped the torch left on the outside and started to make his way through the entrance. A light caught the corner of his eye and looked up. He gaped as the red comet was flying across the sky. 

That was impossible. The red comet appeared when his aunt hatched her children, not before. It heralded the return of magic. 

He stared in concern for a few minutes, then about leapt to the top of the crypt entrance when a hand settled onto his shoulder. 

“Snow?” Robb’s voice sounded amused. 

Jon met his brother’s eyes and cursed himself for being so distracted that he did not even hear Robb coming up close enough to touch him. 

“What in the world are you doing?” Robb ‘s voice did not sound any less amused, although his voice faltered a bit when he looked up to see the red comet. 

“What is that?” he asked bewildered, “Mayhaps, we should wake the maester?” 

“NO!” Jon ordered and then grimaced. It had been an experience for the last week to try and not walk about ordering the people of Winterfell. He had grown too used to being King. He tried to ignore Robb’s raised eyebrow. 

“I am going down, are you coming?” he found himself asking gruffly, trying to distract his cousin. He supposed at this point, whatever reason he needed to be in the crypts, it would not hurt for Robb to go with him. A part of him also felt joy at being able to share something with the young Lord Stark again. 

“We are all going...well, all three of us,” Sansa’s voice did not catch Jon by surprise this time. He had smelled the sweet wafting of Sansa’s rose soap before she had made herself known. 

“Mayhaps, you would tell us, dear Jon...why were are traveling below at such early hours of the dawn?” her amusement was clear and Jon could see the pleasure she received at Robb’s own bafflement. It had been at least three years since she had spoken familiarly to Jon in Robb’s eyes until the last few weeks. 

Jon felt a bit like Sansa was enjoying the vast confusion she was causing across the board of the entirety of Winterfell a little to much. She had baffled her own father three days prior when he had asked a question to Robb about how much grain should be stored for the oncoming cold and if he had an idea of how long the winter would last after reviewing the records of the past long summer’s. 

Sansa had answered succintely and wisely, resembling more the Lady of Winterfell she had been to the child of four and ten she was supposed to be. 

Then when Lady Stark had remarked about a bastard’s only proper lot in life being the wall or the silent sisters, Sansa had drily given a history lesson of all that Stark bastard’s had done over the centuries to protect the core family. That in itself had been strange, but Jon had to remove himself from the hall when Sansa used that fact to suggest perhaps the Stark’s should  _ all  _ work to produce a bastard...for the protection of the family that was. 

Jon and Arya had both remarked later, when Sansa was washing her mouth out for the fifth time after being forced to sit with a bar of soap between her lips for an hour, that neither of them was aware that a human could turn the shade of purple that had graced Lady Stark’s face. 

Sansa had simply turned and said Joffrey turn three shades darker when he collapsed from the poison at the purple wedding. 

“Jon?” Robb asked and Jon realized belatedly that they must have been trying to get his attention. He looked up and found Sansa staring at him with slight worry. He gave a minute shake of his head, trying to indicate that he was fine. She pursed her lips, but tilted her head back in response. 

“I do not know. I just know that I had a dream and I had to come,” Jon answered, knowing the response was weak and Robb would jest about his paranoia, but Sansa considered him seriously. 

“Well,” she broke in as Robb huffed with laughter and pushed the ironwood doors to open, “Then, let’s descend so we can put this...compulsion to rest.” 

Robb was still shaking with laughter as they walked downwards in the spiral of the staircase.

He yelped as Sansa’s hand smacked the back of his head sharply. He shot a glare at his sister and drew himself up to rebuke her, but Jon hushed them as he began to light the torches the further in they went. They passed many Edric’s and Brandon’s and Rickon’s and further they went still. 

Jon could not describe the thrumming feeling that was now growing stronger the deeper they walked. He heard Robb quietly talking to Sansa as they trailed after him, but he could not focus on the words. The pressure that had been an ever present push in the back of his mind, was awake and screaming at him. It wasn’t a headache, but something ancient and primal leading him forth. He felt it all over his body and in his mind. 

The press to hurry was growing stronger and finally Jon stopped at what appeared to be a vine covered alcove. Sansa looked at him confused and glanced around. 

They were further down and into the crypts than she had ever been...given the dust she began to wonder if anyone in the last three centuries or more had been down this far. 

There was nothing there...then suddenly Jon reached out and pulled the vines from the alcove and began dusting off what appeared to be a wall made of black….

“Dragonglass,” Sansa breathed in surprise. 

“Robb, your knife?” she said holding her hand out. She was grateful when her brother did not argue. He handed her the blade, though his look was confused. 

She lifted the layers of her ridiculous skirts and cut a swatch from the bottom and then another and another. Handing them to the boys, they all began removing plant growth of vines and lichens and dirt. Jon seemed to work as if driven by the Gods and Sansa started at the thought. It was completely possible he was. 

When the area had been cleared she was shocked to find it seemed to be a door. There was no knob, only markings etched where a handle would be. 

Jon reached out and sketched the markings with his fingers. 

“What are they?” Robb voiced the question. 

“Glyphs…” Jon murmured, “Of the first men and valyrian. See here,” Jon pointed to where a distinctive shape went from rounded to sharp edges. He sounded awed in a way that made Sansa want to hug him. Here was an honest symbol to describe her cousin’s heritage. Both Targaryen and Stark, ancient in honor and legend. 

Jon reached down and grabbed his knife from his boot. Robb started forward when Jon brought the blade to his palm, but Sansa stayed him with a hand to his back. Robb looked down at her and she urged him to stay still with her eyes. They both watched as Jon dragged the blade across his skin, blood seeping through the wound. He pressed his bloodied hand to the symbols and they gasped as they started to glow. 

Nothing happened though and Jon stepped back, bringing the torch closer to try and see if anything changed. They seemed to glow brighter for a moment and he looked at the torch to the symbol and then back at Sansa. 

Sansa paused as she thought about it for a moment, suddenly wishing Robb was not with them. Nothing could be helped for it now, though. 

“For fire shall not burn a dragon,” Sansa murmured and nodded to Jon. 

“What?” Robb asked as Jon thrust the torch fire onto the glyphs. The change was immediate and Sansa and Robb both grabbed at Jon as the dragonglass door opened, fire flying down what appeared to be a hallway and all along the sides. Fire lit long troves as they began to move forward. 

“It looks like the paintings of Old Valyria in the red keep. They lit the caves and caverns of the mountain’s for the dragonlord’s of old,” Sansa murmured as they moved forward. 

“The red keep? How in the world do you know what is in the red keep?” Robb asked, his voice slightly shaky. 

Sansa blanched at her accidental speech. 

“We go forward and then we will answer your questions, Robb,” Jon instructed and Robb looked at him again at the tone in his voice. It was a clear order. 

“Everything? Why Arya and you both are acting odd?” Robb demanded and they would have to be deaf to not hear the hurt in his voice. Jon slowed and turned. He reached out and clasped Robb by the shoulder. 

“Everything, Robb,” he promised thickly. 

Then he turned and led them forward chasing the flow of fire. All three watches as the walls portrayed scene after scene of glyphs and paintings, long broken down in fractured pieces. When the reached the end of the hallway, it came to a stone staircase that led down into a huge cavernous room. There was a pool at the bottom, what Sansa supposed was a hot spring. The fire pits had spread out across the room and were circling the springs in tandem from both sides till they stopped at an opening. 

She looked at Jon, who had frozen in front of both of them and partially blocked their view. 

“Jon?” she asked, trying to peer around him to find what had transfixed his attention. 

“I know why I was drawn here,” he whispered, choking on what sounded like emotion. Sansa watched as he began to move down the stairs and gasped herself. There, on a raised dais, in the middle of the springs were stone dragons eggs. The eggs were not what had Jon transfixed though. He came to the bottom of the massive staircase the meet the hatchling that was fighting its way out of the last of its shell. 

Jon kneeled down and pulled the egg pieces away and scooped the blue and white hatchling up and quickly held it to his chest. The dragon looked up at him with piercing golden eyes and Sansa and Robb both moved forward. The dragon tilted its head to look at them curiously. 

“Vargar,” Jon murmured running his hand over the ridge of the dragon’s head. 

“How?” Robb was solemn as he asked. 

Sansa sighed, there was no way around it, now. Their campaign must begin, for there was no way to hide a dragon long term. 

“Brother, eldest, it appears it falls on me to speak the truth that our father dares not breathe aloud. May I present to you, our cousin, trueborn son of Rhaegar Targaryen and his second wife Princess Lyanna Targaryen nee Stark, sister-wife to Elia, daughter of Dorne and Princess of the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon Targaryen of House Stark and House Targaryen, sixth of his name, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms,  King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Protector of Westeros and all mankind. Lord Dragon and King of Winter...my liege lord,” Sansa finished with a slight flourishing curtsy. 

Jon’s head shot up at the last. 

“No, Sansa. Your father remains your Lord and will remain your Lord until he dies. We will not give cause to your mother to believe everything she has always said of me,” Jon said forcefully and met Sansa’s eyes. 

“King Robert is dead, Jon, as are Renly and Stannis. That is why I was looking for you when I saw you both past the old tower and come to the crypt’s. It is time, cousin, and I suppose just in time for how we would hide a dragon I know not.” 

Jon swallowed hard and finally looked to Robb. 

“Robert Baratheon has children...he won by the right of conquest…,” Robb said weakly looking back and forth between Jon and Sansa. 

“Robert Baratheon has no trueborn children. Those who claim to be are actually natural born pure Lannister’s,” Sansa said matter-of-factly, but was surprised when Jon broke in to address the rest. 

“Robert’s rebellion was based on a lie. My mother was not kidnapped, nor raped, and went willingly to my father  _ and  _ his other wife. He was married to both of them at Elia’s request in an attempt to complete a prophecy that they  _ both  _ believed in,” Jon said quietly and took a deep breath as the little dragon seemed to be trying to snarl with Jon’s increasing agitation. 

Jon sat down and leaned against the stone staircase. 

“I was supposed to be raised with my siblings, Rhaenys and Aegon. Then they were killed before I was born and Mother died from a birthing fever after giving me to Uncle, your father, and begging him to keep me safe,” Jon finished somberly. 

Sansa bit her bottom lip. Robb’s comment made her think of something she had never actually considered. 

Sansa stayed quiet for a moment before finishing after Jon, “Robert Baratheon might have conquered, but he did not really base his rule on just right of conquest...He based his rule and right to rule over the other nobility who rebelled with him after the conquest on his shared Targaryen blood...Honestly, with no trueborn children and Stannis and Renly dead, we could claim Jon is his actual heir...I will have to think on this.” 

Jon was looking at her in exasperation when she glanced up and he shot a look over to Robb who was staring at her wide-eyed. 

“Bother,” Sansa said in frustration. She was really hoping they would be able to get away with only telling Robb the bare minimum and  _ not _ that they had traveled back in time just yet. She should have known better. Her eldest brother was not a fool and if she attempted to treat him like one it would backfire. The pack had to grow strong without distrust. 

“We are going to have to tell everyone, Sansa,” Jon murmured, “Everything.”

Sansa glanced over and sighed, “Yes, Your Grace, I suppose it would be a bit to much of a feat to hide a real dragon as well as a human one.” 

Jon half shrugged, “At least you were the first with Robb to see it.”

Sansa smiled brightly, “Theon is going to fall over in jealousy.”

“Theon knows?” Robb barked, bringing their attention back to him. 

Sansa sighed and laid a hand on Robb’s arm. Her brother was looking at Jon like he had betrayed everything their brotherhood had ever stood for. 

“Robb, we must tell you how we know what we know and it will be hard to believe,” Sansa said softly. 

“Harder to believe than father harboring a Targaryen Prince and a dragon being hatched under Winterfell?” Robb caustically remarked. 

“You are not wrong,” Jon muttered and motioned for them to follow him up, “I would prefer to do this in front of Mother in case someone comes looking for us and Vargas needs to eat.”

Robb and Sansa both looked at him askance with a question in their eyes. 

“He feels ravenous and rats...he is going to start with rats,” Jon muttered as they began to trek back up the stairs. 

  
  
  
  
  
  


_____

Sansa knocked onto Theon’s door lightly. They had a very limited time to do what she needed them to do. 

“Sansa?” Theon opened the door and Sansa found herself with a dry mouth as she was confronted with a half dressed Theon. She could not help but let her eyes drift over his chest. Gone was the atrophied muscles of Reek. Theon was in his prime, fit and tight. 

“Get dressed, we are leaving at once,” she ordered and twirled around before he could respond and tossed back, “Meet me by the stables.”

Theon blinked heavily as he watched Sansa march off as if she was about to lead a battle and given her order, perhaps she planned to. Shrugging, Theon turned and shut his door to dress and throw together a bag of supplies. He wondered if his princess had thought about supplies if they were fleeing Winterfell in the dead of night. 

He was tying his bag to the reins of his horse when Sansa deemed to appear as if out of nowhere. 

“And where are we going?” he asked quietly, if a bit amused. 

“Essos, to join Daenerys,” she stated succinctly. 

Theon blinked at her stupidly for a moment, “Does His Grace…” he began and stopped abruptly at the piercing look she shot him as she swung a leg over her horse. 

“No, and I hope he will be distracted enough with his dragon to not notice till later in the morrow. I hate leaving him to tell Father and Mother with just Arya, but I want to be in Essos before Dany leaves to come here,” Sansa said as she clicked her tongue. 

Theon sighed and looked toward the direction they would go to send a prayer to the Drowned God. 

Sansa made them press hard and he wondered how she planned to get onto a ship from White Harbor, because that had to be the direction they were traveling. Where else would they slip through from? A raven would make its way to Lord Manderly long before they reached the shore. It would take seven days of riding hard without killing their horses to even make it to White Harbor. 

“You are Androl Tigraine and I am Betenia, your lovely wife. We are newly married and looking to travel to Essos at the order of our Lord Bolton,” Sansa said smartly as she held up a scroll with the flayed man emblem pressed into wax and ceiled. 

“And how do you propose we keep from being detaining after your father sends ravens to Lord Manderly, your royal highness?” Theon could not help but shoot back. 

“Lord Manderly?” Sansa laughed and Theon could not help but shiver at the pure mirth in her voice. 

“Who said anything about White Harbor, Theon?” Sansa finally got out before continuing as Theon looked at her baffled. 

“We ride for Cape Kraken and Ironman’s bay. Lord Reed has arranged for us to slip through with no one the wiser,” Sansa chuckled. 

Theon shot a look over at Sansa. She had the stubborn look he had learned meant it was best just to do as she said. 

“It will take near on two moons longer to reach Essos with having to go around Westeros,” he said slowly. Sansa narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I am aware of the time it will take, but it is necessary,” she finally responded.

“May I ask why we are going to Essos to meet with Princess Daenerys?” Theon finally asked after a few moments of silence. 

Sansa sighed greatly. 

“I am not completely sure why, but I know that a Stark needs to be with Daenerys when she comes North. With the changes it will not be long before Varys makes his way to Dany as well and I am not completely sure he would believe just Dany when she says that the Starks are allies. So many threads and the inability to be able to communicate safely has meant we need to join together sooner rather than later,” Sansa explained. 

“Your father is going to cut off my head the minute I step back on Westeros,” Theon dryly remarked when Sansa seemed to be done speaking. 

  
  



	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The truth begins to unfold as more are brought into the confidence of the King and his young council.

Jon and Robb both sat watching Vargas roll around the hearth in Robb’s chambers where the fire had dwindled down and was now just warm coals. Jon was putting off the conversation that was going to have to occur very soon. 

He had sent Robb to break his fast with the rest of the family and Jon had waited for him to return so as to avoid as much suspicion as possible. Robb had been kind enough to return with pockets full of sweet bread and an apple. 

“So, you are all seven years older?” Robb asked cautiously as if the answer would bite him. 

Jon chuckled, “Thereabouts, but it was hard to track time at the end. It was always dark and there were more pressing concerns about whether a day or several days had past.”

Robb nodded as he mulled this over. A slight skittering noise caught their attention and both boys turned to look as Greywind popped Ghost on the head with a playful snarl. Ghost lept back up and jumped onto Greywind and they tumbled down in a play fight. 

Robb could not help but feel some sort of happiness over the pups playing together and him now knowing what his fate had been with Greywind. 

“They will grow up together, fight together, and help bring peace with us. The pack will be protected,” Jon said quietly as Robb thought. He looked up and smiled at Jon as well. His brother was a good man was going to make a good king. He wondered absently if he had been remembered by anyone as a good king. 

“You said Arya was an assassin?” Robb finally asked after a few minutes. Jon nodded. 

“A faceless man..woman, devotiate of the God of Death,” Jon admitted. Robb felt the chill of that statement. 

A knock on the door made Robb and Jon jolt and Jon recognized the first ramifications of telling his brother the truth. Robb looked to him for permission and Jon gave a jerky nod. He did not like the tight feeling that occured with that small act of deference. He needed his pack to be equals in the mannerisms and actions with him as long as possible, but he knew the likelihood of that was growing less and less likely by the hour. 

Robb unbolted and began to open it, but before he was able to have it more than a foot, Arya slipped by and pressed it closed, Nymeria skidding in at the last minute. She leaned back on the heels of her feet, her hands tucked into pockets, looking up at Robb with a considering look. 

Robb stared back down at her, trying to make sense of the twelve year old girl in front of him compared to the woman his brother had described at nine and ten. 

“Well met again, brother,” Arya finally said quietly, coming to stand solidly. 

“Well met, sister,” Robb responded, slightly amused at Arya’s serious tone. 

Jon spoke, “Arya, is everything all right?”

Robb’s eyes fell on parchment clutched in Arya’s hands. 

Arya sighed, but suddenly her eyes caught a slight fluttering movement behind them in the hearth. 

“Jon? There is a baby dragon sitting in Robb’s fireplace.” she said, her voice excited as the direwolves suddenly also seemed to notice Vargas. 

Jon grinned and Robb found himself somewhat comforted that both of his siblings were still able to find excitement and awe. He had a feeling all of them had grown up far beyond their years by their end. 

“Vargas,” Jon said and the dragon tottled out. The direwolves rustled over to it and started to sniff and lick before making excited yips of hello. The dragon seemed to like the idea of playing and suddenly found itself right in the middle of a puppy pile. 

“You named your dragon ‘Wolf’ in the old tongue?” Arya snickered. Jon gave her a non-plussed look. 

“How are we going to tell Mother and Father?” Robb finally asked as he watched the exchange, “I suppose we should fetch Sansa and see how to round them up in Father’s solar.”

Arya blanched and wordlessly held out the parchment she’d been holding to Jon. Jon took it curiously and began to read. Halfway through he grew so pale Robb thought he might faint. 

“Jon?” he asked worridly as Jon went from ghost white to redder than Sansa’s hair. 

“I am going to kill her myself,” Jon suddenly roared and began to pace back and forth, the letter clutched in his hand, “Both of them!” 

“Jon? What is it? Who are you killing?” Robb asked worridly. 

“That ridiculous, know-it-all, sister of yours and that moronic squid she thinks to steal for a husband,” Jon snarled and thrust the letter at Robb. Robb read it and gulped hard. Sansa taken off for...Essos?   
  


And Theon….

“What do you mean husband?” his head snapped up and he stared at Jon and Arya. 

“Theon needed to be brought closer into the pack and then he awakened with his past memories and swore his sword to Sansa. Somewhere along the line Sansa decided she was going to marry him,” Arya said quickly in way of explanation as the wolves and Vargas seemed to be getting agitated as well, watching Jon pace the expanse of the room. 

Jon stopped again and looked at Arya. 

“I will have to risk a letter to Dany so she knows they are coming,” he sighed. 

“They will never get out of White Harbor without being caught,” Robb pointed out, but Arya quickly shut down his hope. 

“Sansa would never take a path so obvious when she has apparently been planning this. She would also never take Theon with her if they were going a direction with a modicum of opportunity to be caught. Father will kill him if she does not figure how to stop him.” 

Robb looked perplexed, “So, she is going to be the Lady of the Iron Isles?”

Jon slumped down into the chair, Vargas immediately climbing up and twining around his neck, and Jon put his head into his hands. 

“Theon will give over his inheritance in favor for his sister, the Lady Asha. The men and women of the Iron Island will expect nothing less from a man not raised among them. He is too much wolf and not enough Kraken,” Jon said wearily. 

“So he will have nothing to offer? Mother will not like that,” Robb said pragmatically and both boys looked to Arya when she giggled. 

“Robb, Jon is the King and his Aunt is likely to be Empress of Essos by now. Sansa spoke several times of Dany placing them in Essos when it is all over and Jon was of the idea to put him as Master of Ships. There will be options.” 

“They will not choose Master of Ships. I named him before I realized Sansa had decided to marry him. Sansa would never agree to live in King’s Landing again. I am not even sure if she would come for my coronation. She would rather join the silent sisters that step foot in the place she calls the epitome of all seven hells,” Jon said quietly. 

Robb stared at Jon, feeling suddenly that there must have been many pieces left from the history lesson of the future he had been given. 

“It is not a pretty tale, Robb,” Jon said, his voice breaking, “No good comes from telling it and it is not our tale to tell.”

Robb acquiesced slightly sullen. Then a knock at the door made them all jump up. 

“Robb?” Lord Eddard Stark called out. 

“Yes, father?” Robb responded. 

“Open the door, Robb, I would like to speak with you,” Ned Stark sounded serious and all three looked at one another before focusing on Jon. 

Jon sighed and looked at Vargas, rubbing under the dragon’s neck and listening the strange purring noise vibrate. 

“Let him in,” Jon said grimly.

Robb unlatched the door and opened it for his Lord Father. The minute he walked in he froze staring at Jon, who was still sitting with Vargas wrapped around his neck. He startled when the door slammed shut again and the latch re-connected. He looked back to see Arya leaning against the door. 

“Hello, Uncle. I suppose we need to talk,” Jon said, sadness in his voice, as Ned Stark stood gaping. 

“Jon…,” he choked out. 

“Aegon,” Arya corrected and just stared back when Jon gave her a dirty look. 

“How…,” Ned hoarsely croaked. 

“It is a long story and one that is not very pretty, I am afraid, Uncle,” Jon responded quietly. 

“Perhaps, you should sit down,” Arya suggested and pushed the other chair up to the back of Ned’s knees. Robb watched, somewhat bemused, as he had never seen his father look so flabbergasted. Ned was looking at the dragon and back to Jon and back to the dragon before slumping into the chair. 

“Uncle…” Jon began.

“I’m your father...whether I sired you or not,” Ned interupted and Jon look startled at the hurt in his voice. 

“Of course...Father….several moons ago Sansa, Arya, and I awoke from around seven years in the future to our younger selves.”

With every word that went by Lord Eddard Stark grew paler till the very end when he just reached out blindly to pull his nephew turned son and daughter to his chest and wept. 

It took another three hours of talking and crying before Lord Stark realized his eldest daughter had been mentioned, but was nowhere in sight. They had long retired to his solar and he was getting close to sending for his wife. 

He was suddenly surprised as Jon went from being a man who knew he was King to an errant boy who was worried about something his father was about to find out. 

“Where is Sansa, Jon?” Ned asked quietly. 

Jon sighed and rubbed his temples with his fingers. 

“You must understand, Father, Sansa did not truly begin to heal and do more than survive till Daenerys came home. We did our best to help...and Sansa should speak more to you of what happened to her, specifically...but they...they bonded and Sansa finally spoke to someone about her horrors…” Jon grew quiet again and Ned was once again saddened by the look Jon wore. It was the look of a man who knew there was something he could not fix for a person he loved. 

“Oh for fucks sake.”

Ned’s head shot up and Jon’s swirled at the curse by his youngest daughter. 

“She’s ran off to join Dany is Essos and drug the squid with her,” Arya burst out. 

Ned froze as the words settled around him. 

“She did what?” Lady Catelyn screeched from the door where she had slipped in only moment’s before. 

* * *

Theon Greyjoy felt his story was quite unfortunate, but by his own hand and no one elses. It was a tale that bled the Stark’s dry and led to the desolution of not only their house, but his own. He was a fool who had done deeds that did not deserve forgiveness. The red at the corner of his eye made him turn his head and he could not help but smile. 

Princess Sansa of House Stark was unique from all other women. He had fancied himself in love with her when they were children for the first time, but had thought it a crush by the time she’d set off for the red keep. By the time he had realized it was not a crush disguised by love, but love disguised as a crush, Theon had been well broken and not the man for any woman. 

“Are you ready, Androl?” Sansa remarked smartly and Theon resisted the urge to roll his eyes at her. 

“I am as ready as I ever will be, sweet Betenia, to dishonor your Lord Father by running off with his eldest daughter,” Theon remarked dryly. He winced as Sansa’s hand smacked the back of his head. 

The sound of a horse whining and then several pounding hoofbeats made him turn to look, reaching to pull Sansa behind him. 

“It is the Marsh Lord, Theon, rest easy,” Sansa murmured at his back as Lord Howland Reed and his riders came to a halt in front of them. 

“Lord Reed,” Sansa greeted as the man swung off the horse. 

“Princess,” Lord Howland remarked as he went down on one knee. 

Theon watched as the side of Sansa’s mouth twitched as it did when she thought someone was being foolish. Everyone else would not notice her annoyance, but Theon had spent a lifetime and more learning every nuance Sansa showed to discover her true thoughts. 

“Stand, Lord Reed,” Sansa finally bit out when it was obvious the man planned to stay on his knee till she gave leave. 

“Be settled, Princess, these men are as faithful as your direwolf pup and there is no one for miles. The raven’s have shown Jojen,” Howland remarked quietly as he stood. Sansa’s eyes drifted back to see Lord Howland’s son. 

“I know you have faith in your men and by all means you should have faith in your heir, but I will take no chances when it comes to My King’s life,” Sansa quietly chastised. 

“I am not heir,” Jojen’s voice brought her attention back to the boy. Sansa looked at Lord Reed who seemed resigned. 

“What do you mean?” Sansa asked slowly, praying the child did not see the same future for himself that had occured the first time. 

“I am stepping aside for Meera to be Lady of Greywatch. You changed much when Bran sent you back. Even know he begins to awaken as the former Three Eyed Raven weakens. He must go beyond the wall and complete the merging. I will go with him as my father followed your’s on his own quest so many years ago to the Tower of Joy,” Jojen Reed said, the truth ringing in his voice. 

“Can you not wait till Vargas has grown? Jon could fly you...we could send you surrounded by an army,” Sansa knew she was beyond keeping the stress from her voice, sound breaking as she held back tears. 

Jojen looked not unkindly, if not warmly, upon her and walked up. 

“I promise you, Princess in the North, that I will do all in my power to keep Bran from harm as we complete this journey. That said, I believe my father has a favor to ask of you,” Jojen said as he met Sansa’s eyes. 

Theon startled as Sansa gave a nod and leaned slightly back into him. He placed a hand at the small of her back to indicate that he was there and he knew she was struggling. 

“This is Meera, my eldest and apparently my heir,” Lord Reed said indicating a petite curly brown haired girl with murky green eyes. Meera came forward a slightly quirk upon her lips. 

“As it seems my son must go to guide and protect your brother, I would ask you to take my daughter with you. Let her be your chosen handmaiden and protect her as you would protect a sister,” Lord Reed said somberly. 

Sansa tilted her head and looked to Meera. 

“Is this your wish?” she asked the girl, who for all intents and purposes to the world was elder than her by atleast four turns. 

“It is, Your Royal Highness. It has been foretold and is the desire of the Old God’s. I thought to protect my brother for the majority of my life, to be told I am to travel further than beyond the wall,” Meera said flatly. 

“Foretold?” Sansa said curiously. 

Jojen spoke again, “Yes. When you were sent back very little was changed around your exact circumstances so nothing appeared different, but a prophecy was sent back even further. Where there was the prophecy of the long night came the Prophecy of the Second Summer. We live that time right now and next will come the Prophecy of the Eternal Night.”

Sansa stared at him carefully, “And Lady Meera coming with myself and My Lord is part of this prophecy?” 

“Sansa,” Theon growled aggravated behind her. She shot a look over her shoulder that made him bite his tongue before speaking again. 

“Yes,” Jojen said simply. 

Sansa seemed to think before nodded, “ I agree, Lord Reed. Lady Meera will travel with us and be my handmaiden. I will offer all the protection I can as a Princess in the North incognito. In return, Jojen will do the same for my brother and his journey to the far north and you will make sure a message reaches the ears of Jon Arryn for me.” 

Lord Reed nodded along till the end, “And what message would that be, Your Highness?” 

Sansa smiled as she set the first piece on the board she would claim as her domain till Jon sat firmly on the Iron Throne. 

“Come North and hear the truth. Come North and see the Warden and all will be revealed.” 

“It will be done,” Lord Reed answered, his solemn son nodding his head behind him. 

* * *

Lady Catelyn Stark stood looking down from the battlements of Winterfell at the forest surrounding her home for over 19 years. She had come to be the Lady of the Warden of the North and thought she had done well by him for all these years. Now, she felt as though the entirety of the north judged her justly for being southron to her core. 

Her own daughter had lectured her on the benefits that bastard’s had brought these lands for thousands of years. She had told her to adjust the way she treated the basta...the King...and she had ignored her. 

“Lady Stark,” the voice behind her made her entire body seize up and she turned slowly to find the boy...the man in question. 

“Your Grace…” she found herself whispering and found herself beyond irritated at her meekness. She was still the Lady of Winterfell. 

“I should apologize, I should beg mercy for treating you unjustly...for being unable to love a motherless child,” she began, swallowing back the way she felt sick. 

“I would not ask for it nor do I want it,” he said as he came to stand by her.

She looked at him in question. 

“You thought your husband had disgraced you and then dishonored you by keeping the shame of that disgrace under your nose. I know Sansa spoke with you about how the North has historically treated the bastards of noblemen and even some women, but you were born and raised in the South before the Light of the Seven,” Jon spoke slowly and Catelyn found herself listening carefully. 

“I should have taken more time to learn how to adapt to my home when I came...and Ned did not know me when he brought you home,” she said quietly, finding herself wanted the shift blame back onto herself. 

Jon looked at her unimpressed, “You will not sit and allow yourself to be a martyr to what you perceive to be your wrongdoings. We do not have time for saintly assumptions and I do not expect years of animosity to be gone overnight because you now know the truth. Fear of the size of your feelings for me will not abate instantly.”

Jon paused and Catelyn knew her face was ashen at the chastisement. Must she spend the rest of her years being chastised by her children and nephew? 

“We will learn to work together, because while I have a land and a people to save...our family will always tie us together as they will always come first. Any mistakes made in the past were because of that and we will need to be held accountable for attempting to burn the world to save our own blood,” Jon said gruffly. 

Catelyn found herself nodding.  _ Family, Duty, Honor.  _ The words of her birth family would hold, but the words of the family she married into would always prevail. 

She startled as she realized it was the same for her nephew. 

_ Fire and Blood  _ were the words he was born to, but just like her  _ Winter is Coming  _ would be the words that united their worlds. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really like Meera Reed. I am not a hundred percent sure why, honestly. She is just one of my favorites to play with in my stories. 
> 
> Remember, keep it polite in the comments. 
> 
> I do have a tumblr if anyone wants to check it out. Not a lot there right now, but we will see if it grows into a full platform or not. 
> 
> https://hellsofbelles.tumblr.com


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sansa and Theon are on the way to Essos to find Daenerys. Jon and Arya are back at Winterfell preparing for the coming wars.

**WINTERFELL**

* * *

Jon stared down at the map his Uncle Father had placed before them. He looked up and grinned as he watched Robb lean in and purse his lips the way he did when deep in thought. 

“This won’t work,” Robb stated bluntly, “We will never make it past the gates of King’s Landing with an army if we just show up. They could wait out a seige from land for years.” 

Jon nodded thoughtfully, having already known that, but letting Robb figure it out. They had called him the Young Wolf and said that he drew up battleplans more successful than any other general alive. There were obvious hints of the man he would become in everything his cousin did. 

“We should block the bay and the front,” Robb mused as he began to move the figure around the map of Westeros.

“Mmhm,” Jon agreed with a sound as he watched his brother continue to look at the playing pieces. 

It was Lady Catelyn who spoke next, to Jon’s surprise. Their relationship had been better since everything was out in the open, but his Aunt had been slow to speak up during their family war councils. 

Jon paused and wondered how harmful it would be if he made his entire small council out of family. 

“We should begin gathering allies and setting alliances,” she said quietly as she looked at the board and picked up white markers from the side. She placed one on White Harbor, another at the general location of Highgarden, her hand hesitated before placing one on the Eerie, and she glanced hesitantly at Arya before placing one on Dorne. 

Jon hoped Arya realized this was a white flag moment for her mother. She was placing the marker somewhere a man would not mind if his wife took up arms. He tried not to think about the fact that the Eerie had to be specifically for Sansa and everywhere else was an elligible maiden for himself or Robb. 

She stepped back and Jon noted with amusement that Arya stood quickly and made her way over. She looked at the board before slowly reaching out and picking the marker up and moving it to King’s Landing. 

Everyone turned to look at her flabbergasted. She just looked at Jon with serious eyes. 

Jon sighed, “I have to legitimize him, Arya. Gendry deserves nothing less for what he did the first time around and he is exactly what the descendent of Orys should have been. I cannot guarentee I will not have to ask him to take a hold.” 

Arya stared at him silently and the family watched with bated breath, not completely sure what was happening. 

“I have done many things for the North and for the Crown, brother, but you will legitimize Gendry as a Baratheon, you will agree to our marriage with your wholehearted blessing, and you WILL NOT tie use down to a hold. Neither of us were meant to stay stationary, at least not yet,” Arya said quietly. 

“Who is Gendry?” Catelyn said, her voice hoarse. 

Arya did not look away from Jon for a good minute before turning her attention to her mother and father. 

“He is the man I love and the man I will marry. A blacksmith by trade with Waters as his last name, but he is the natural son of Robert Baratheon,” Arya said quietly and Jon waited for the outrage. 

He looked up when none was forthcoming. He could not help but watch amused as Catelyn’s face went through several shades and emotions, before finally settling down with a calm acceptance. She just nodded and looked back to the board before looking up at Jon and Robb. 

Jon interupted before anything else could be said, “There is a woman by the name of Talisa Maegyr in the riverlands. She is a healer from Volantis and the daughter of a noble house there, but she fled because she would not ever live again in a world that held to slavery and she wanted to heal.”

He grew quiet again before looking up to Robb, “In the time before she had another name, given to her by a man who loved her beyond reason and his people that grew to love her as he did.”

Robb asked almost at a whisper, “Who was she?” 

Jon took a deep breath and answered as solemnly as if he was praying before the heart tree. 

“Talisa, Queen in the North, wife of the young wolf.” 

Catelyn inhaled sharply and leaned back into her husband as Robb stared at Jon. 

“I thought you said I was supposed to marry a Frey girl,” he said perplexed, but Jon smiled softly. 

“Aye, but Talisa Maegyr, for all the stories told of her, won your heart because she followed the camp and took care of the wounded without prejudice and with determination. You knew that you were supposed to marry for alliance, but you wanted more and she was worth every bit,” Jon finished quietly. 

“We have more in common that I originally knew, brother, and we are the lucky ones in this family that will get to marry for love,” Arya broke in looking at Robb who looked up at his parents and then to Jon.

“How will I find her?” he asked hoarsely. 

Jon smiled, “We will find her, this I promise you.” 

“What happened to her?” Lady Catelyn asked curiously, having been hesitant to ask her husband of what he knew of the future their children had returned from. 

Jon shared a look with Arya and she stared at him stonily. 

“Lord Frey of the Twins took insult that Robb married Talisa instead of one of his promised progeny. Together with Tywin Lannister and Roose Bolton he betrayed the North at the wedding of Lord Edmure Tully to Lady Roslin Frey,” Jon spoke slowly and paused to catch his breath and freeze his blood. 

“After the wedding, as the Rein’s of Castemere played, the King and Queen in the North were massacred along with the majority of the Northern Lords and many heirs,” Jon finished as Lady Catelyn cried out and reach blindly for her husband who balanced her as he sat her down in a chair. 

“That’s why you said House Frey and House Bolton would be razed to the ground,” Ned said slowly, “But Jon we cannot just destroy two houses who in this time have yet to harm us.”

Arya stood suddenly , “I was there outside the Red Wedding. Sandor Clegane had hoped to sell me back for a pretty penny. They cut off Greywind’s head and sewed it upon Robb’s body and led him through the streets calling for the King in the North. I heard them talk of tossing Mother into the river in a mockery of the Riverland ways, but Sandor dragged me away before I could learn where.”

Arya stood and began to pace back and forth, occasionally looking up to her parents, before taking a deep breath and turning to face them all directly. Jon’s breath caught, he knew what was coming and he wished it did not have to occur, but knew that it was the only way anyone was going to take her as a serious threat to their enemies. 

“I went away to Braavos to become a faceless man and when I returned I went to the twins and I brought the Winter with me. I fed old Lord Frey his heirs, baked in a pie, and then I slit his throat before cutting his face from his body to wear. That night I had a feast prepared for all and only the Frey men,” Arya stood perfectly still, no emotion in her voice at all. 

“When they had finished eating, I proposed a toast from the wine sent from King’s Landing in thanks to Lord Frey for his services. They raised their cup’s in a toast to the death of the Starks and then drank deeply before dying on the floor like dogs,” Arya finished and looked around the room, fiercly meeting the eyes of each family member. 

“We became the wolves of legend because we had too, because you were all gone. You died and were betrayed, but it felt like you left us. Honor and naivety allowed Cersei Lannister to ever have the opportunity to steal the power to do something to begin with. A mother’s prejudice pushed a Stark son to the wall where he was betrayed and killed by his sworn brother’s, before being brought back by a God broken,” Arya’s voice no longer was emotionless and her chest was heaving as she chastised the elder Starks. 

“Enough, Arya,” Jon quietly ordered, but she did not listen and instead turned her eyes to him. 

“I have to speak for Sansa as she is not here to stand and speak the blunt truth. We must be a pack, regardless of disagreements or personal feelings. We must support one another and be honest and above all we must only show mercy to those that deserve mercy,” Arya finally finished snarling before turning and walking out without another word. 

Robb, wordlessly, looked around at everyone before following his sister out the door. 

Jon turned back to that last to inhabitants of the solar and took a deep breath. Ned Stark looked stricken as he watched the door swing shut after the exit of Robb and Arya. Catelyn Stark was sitting silently. Jon could see the hurt in her eyes, but she swallowed deeply and turned her eyes to him. The hurt was hidden almost immediatly and she was calm and collected. Jon almost snorted. If there was any doubt where Sansa had gotten her ability to be calm in the face of turmoil, that solved it right there. 

“Who should I marry, Aunt?” he asked flat out and braced himself for the answer. He would gladly marry Cersei Lannister if it meant his siblings could marry those they loved or felt safe with, even if it was slightly inconvenient. 

Catelyn Stark quickly regarded the board again and spoke cautiously, “The most beneficial match is Margaery Tyrell. I know you said she married a batch of men angling for King in the past, but the Tyrell’s held with House Targaryen till they were forced to bend or be destroyed completely. It would be fitting that the first marriage alliance struck is between House Targaryen and House Tyrell.”

“Was she known as a good Queen?” Catelyn asked Jon considered. 

Jon nodded absently as he went through all the beneficial points Sansa had also pointed out. 

“She was loved by the people, whether by true charity or by good politics, she acted as a true Queen and put their needs before her own. Sansa felt like if she ever truly had the resources and no constraints she would have been known as one of the kindest and generous Queen’s in our history,” he murmured. 

Catelyn hummed in interest, “Sansa proposed this as well?”

Jon chuckled, “Sansa proposed a great many women. She first wanted me to marry a Northwoman, such as Alys Karstark, so that an heir could be secured sooner rather than later.”

“That would have been a horrible political move. It would offer no true alliance benefit,” Catelyn pressed. 

“True, and that is the conclusion Sansa came to as well. Margaery’s name continued to arise throughout all of the conversations, but we never managed to finish the conversation prior to Sansa leaving,” Jon agreed as he looked at the map again. 

He hesitated before he moved the piece off the Eerie and set it to the side. 

“I cannot share Sansa’s story, but I ask that you speak with her before planning any marriages,” he said slowly. 

Lady Catelyn inhaled sharply, “Was it bad, Jon? Please at least tell me it was not all horrible.”

Jon looked her in the eye, “When she was held hostage here, Theon had been tortured by Ramsey Snow and was terrified to the core to disobey him. Still, because of his love for this family and Sansa he tried to help her escape and when Ramsey caught them both, it was not good. When Daenerys and I took Winterfell back from the Bolton’s, we found both of them covered in filth in the kennels. The dog’s were kept one cage away from them and for months after our return, Sansa would not speak except to Theon. He would voice her worries and her thoughts. Eventually she opened up to Dany and then myself and Arya, when she returned home.”

Jon stopped and took a deep breath, “I will never force or ask Sansa to marry for any type of alliance. She could declare she wanted to never marry and I would see her able to live however she wished for all of her days. The same for Daenerys.” 

Catelyn tilted her head in consideration of Jon’s words. The idea that Jon was now the head of the Targaryen House did not even cross her mind and their would be Lord’s galore sending marraige requests for the hand of a Targaryen Princess once the rebellion was well underway. 

There was quiet for a time, but Ned eventually spoke. 

“Sansa is smart and she would not have made the choice she did to run with Theon unless she planned to marry him before coming home.” 

Jon smiled wryly and nodded his agreement. Catelyn sighed and looked at Jon again. 

“How ironic that the one match for any of our children I am making...is yours, nephew.” 

Jon couldn’t help but barked out a laugh. It seemed their truce was going to get better. 

“The Tyrell’s will be setting plans into motion with all Baratheon’s gone and Joffrey crowned,” Ned said suddenly and both Jon and Catelyn looked at him in surprise. 

He gave them both a rather cross look, “She has been raised to be Queen and they will now see a way to the throne that a Stark and Baratheon alliance is less likely with Robert dead.”

“You are correct, someone will need to go to Highgarden immediately to begin negotiations and make it clear that a false stag will not sit the throne for long,” Jon mused and begin to think about who they could send that would even begin to carry the weight for Olenna Tyrell to believe them. 

“Loras Tyrell would have gone home after Renly’s death and he is not a stupid man if a bit brash according to the information you have given us from Sansa, Jon. They will be prepared to offer Margaery, but they will wait a brief bit of time before moving to King’s Landing for a courting attempt. They know they have nothing to currently offer leverage wise for Cersei Lannister to agree to marry her son to a strong house. Cersei will want a house she can easily dominate and rule over,” Catelyn mused as she calculated time as her hand went between Highgarden and Winterfell on the map. 

“What are you thinking, Aunt?” Jon asked finally as she seemed lost in thought. 

Catelyn looked up and met her husband’s eyes, who already appeared resigned. 

“I will go to Highgarden. I will broker the arrangement with the Tyrell’s and secure the Riverlands and the Reach to your rule,” she announced. 

“Robb will go with you,” Jon finally said and looked to Lord Stark. 

“I agree,” Ned said as he watched the path his wife had laid out, “Robb will go and enough men to provide you with protection.” 

Catelyn hummed her agreement and stood, “I best begin the preparation then. I will send raven’s to my father and tell him to expect us and to call my brother home from wherever he currently is wasting his time. Then one to House Tyrell to let them know that a representative is coming to discuss a trade agreement with House Stark.”

“I would send you with another request,” Jon said quietly. Ned and Catelyn both turned to look at him. 

Jon took a deep breath and looked up as he pulled a pin from his jerkin. It had been made in secret with the intent to give it to one of several people if events turned certain ways. 

“I would give you the responsibility to see the Lady Olenna Tyrell named Hand of the King after the betrothel arrangement is finalized.” 

**HIGHGARDEN**

* * *

Lady Olenna Tyrell was often found sitting in her solar and overlooking the grounds of Highgarden. She ruled as surely as any Queen in the Red Keep had for centuries and rarely found a puzzle she did not enjoy. 

Her granddaughter stood standing overlooking the gardens from the window. 

“Perhaps she wishes for me to marry the heir to Winterfell?” Margaery said in consideration. 

They had not been particularly surprised to receive a letter from Winterfell in regards to negotiating trade for grain, but they had been shocked when Lady Olenna’s personal spy network had informed her that it was no mere Northern envoy. 

The Lady of Winterfell and the Heir, Robb Stark, traveled to Highgarden. 

Olenna nodded in thought. It was a good thought, but there was something else going on. Her intuition had not let her down in all her life and she would not ignore it now. 

“Oh, piss on it,” she growled when none of the vines led to a solution in her thoughts. 

Margaery snorted, “Really, Grandmother, what will the Lady of Winterfell think.”

Olenna chuckled wryly, “I’ve always heard she was a bit of a cold fish. The north froze her blood and her husband gained her eternal ire when he raised a bastard among his trueborn children.” 

Margaery sat down across from her and tilted her head in thought, “But then she went on to bear him three children past heir and spare. That does not indicate a cold, marriage bed.” 

Olenna nodded, “The board is not set to our advantage, my rosebud.” 

Margaery could not help but nod in agreement. 

Then Olenna Tyrell leaned back in her chair and grinned a sharp, pointed smile. 

“There is something on the horizon though, I just need to figure out where it connects.”

**THE KING’S ROAD TO THE EERIE**

* * *

Brammen Moss was more than a little excited that he was on a journey for Lord Howland Reed. His liege lord was not a man led to extravagent tastes nor was a man to tell exaggerated stories. This had led Brammen to believe him to be extremely serious when Lord Reed had handed him the letter for Lord Arryn and told him that only Lord Aryn should receive it. 

He had made good time after parting with the group that led the Princess Sansa to the sea, but had been slowed by weather and his horse throwing a shoe. Still, he grinned in success as he made way further down the King’s Road and saw the banner flying of House Arryn. The Falcon banner flapped in the wind and Brammen kicked his horse into a trot to meet the two men coming to meet him. 

“Hold, stranger!” one of the men said. 

Brammen watched bemused as both men crossed their spears together to block his way. He wondered what exactly they thought he, a marsh man, was going to do? 

“I am Brammen Moss of Greywater Watch and I carry a message for Lord Arryn’s eyes only from Lord Howland Reed in regards to House Stark,” Brammen recited the words exactly as he had been told and had rehearsed over and over again. 

The two men looked at one another and then looked back to him. One of the men turned his horse and took back off in a gallop towards the middle of the line where Brammen could see a wheelhouse surrounded by guards. He tilted his head and could not help but roll his nose. 

That must be where the Lady Arryn was housed with the heir, Robin. Princess Sansa had made it quite clear to him that he was to avoid that woman at all costs. She did not think that Lady Arryn would attempt any type of conversation with a lowly messenger, especially one with no obvious birthright, but she had not wanted Brammen to be taken by surprise. 

Looking at the wheelhouse again he tilted his head and tried to imagine Lady Jyana in one of those. He couldn’t even picture the fierce crannogwoman inside it. She would have tore Lord Reed from one side of the watch to the other for assuming she’d want to be trapped inside of something like that. 

“Ser Moss?” 

Brammen brought his attention back to the squire standing in front of his horse. He slid off the horse and gave the boy a grin. 

“It’s just Brammen, I am no southron knight,” he chuckled as he began to follow as the boy indicated. 

He was met slightly away from the road by an elderly man who seemed to move a bit slow. Two men flanked him. 

“Are you Lord Arryn? Lord Jon Arryn?” Brammen asked and narrowed his eyes as waited for an answer. This was the reason that he had been chosen to carry this message. His uncanny ability to tell a lie from the truth. 

“I am, boy, you have a letter for me about the Starks?” the man gruffly responded. Brammen let out a sigh of relief as he pulled the letter from his belt. He handed it over, grateful that he had seen his journey through. 

He watched intrigued as Lord Arryn broke the seal and began to read the contents, inhaling sharply as his eyes went down the letter then shot back up to the top. Finally, his eyes looked up with a storm rising in them. He looked at Brammen and then over to his two men. 

“Ride to the gate immediately ahead of everyone else and tell Ser Brynden he is to ride out and join me with twenty loyal men and the maester,” Lord Arryn paused in his orders, “tell the maester to bring something that can be forced down the throat and will keep a person docile. Bring enough to keep someone till riverrun.” 

The man did not even question and turned and quickly made way. He turned to the other man. 

“Gather four men you trust and tell them to begin to prepare for a journey,” he gruffly ordered and his eyes flitted to Brammen. 

“You’ll be coming with me, boy,” he said staunchly and Brammen nodded, still bemused with his adventure. 

“Milord? Where will we be going?” the other man asked. 

Lord Arryn hesitated. 

“You are going to escort my son to Runestone to Lord Royce who will be given a letter asking to shelter Robin until I send for him,” Lord Arryn finally answered. As the other man skittered off, the Lord of the Eerie and Warden of the East turned and looked at Brammen. 

“Let’s get you somewhere to rest, boy, and get that horse taken care of. Who exactly are you again?” the man said. 

“I’m just a liegeman to Lord Reed, milord, Brammen Moss being my name. My mum says my blood is important, but I’ve never seen the truth in her words. She was prone to exaggerate, you see, my mum did. She always claimed my da was just, a just man, and would speak nothing else about him,” Brammen shrugged. 

The Lord of the Eerie tilted his head and Brammen saw a small smile take the man’s lips. 

“Well, Brammen Moss, follow me and we will see to getting you fed,” the Lord finally answered and Brammen couldn’t help but be bemused as he was led towards the wheelhouse. Mayhaps he could see inside the gilded looking birdcage for humans. 

**ESSOS-MEREEN**

* * *

The air was dry and felt as if it was going to pull all the moisture from her skin. It was different than the heat of the south in King’s Landing. 

Sansa Stark looked around, possibly slightly wide eyed, as she stepped from the boat ramp onto the docks of Mereen. She was not a hundred percent what it was she was going to do, a child of five and teen, though she was passing for a woman grown and recently married. 

She wondered if Jon was following behind her or if Arya had managed to calm him down. She felt a slight twist of guilt in her stomach at the fact she had essentially left them to tell the rest of the family what had happened. 

She felt a rustle at her skirts and looked down to Lady, who had grown to the size of a well fed hound currently. She reached down and gripped her wolf’s fur briefly before petting it back down. 

Her handmaiden, Lady Meera Reed, Heir to Greywater Watch, stood on the other side of Lady and she gave Sansa a bright smile that Sansa could not help but return. Meera was using her spear as a staff, the tipped point at the top covered with a green cloth. The girl looked as unassuming as she could be, but the sailors who had lewdly called at Sansa had learned otherwise very quickly. It had also made Theon relax when he realized that Meera was a boon and not a hindrance to Sansa’s continued existence. They both worried her with their incessant chattering to her about safety. She is not completely sure who was supposed to kidnap her off the ship, but they had both insisted on ridiculous precautions. 

She supposed if she did not manage to marry Theon before returning home, the fact that they were constantly supervised would be helpful to appease her mother and father. 

“I suppose we should figure out where to go from here.” she said, almost off handedly, not particularly expecting an answer. 

She looked to her sworn sword, Theon of House Greyjoy, as he came up beside her. That was going to be another issue when they returned. Her father would try to take Theon’s head the moment they stepped back onto Westerosi soil. 

She took a deep breath and calmed her panicked heart. She would just have to insure that they were married by then. Her moon’s blood had come on the way to Essos and Sansa was slightly perplexed at the timing. Had it really been so long that she was in the Red Keep and her Father dead the first time around? No, they had slowed the world down with the deaths of the main Baratheon line, but it would not be long before it picked back up again. 

Mayhaps a gift from the old gods? 

Perhaps she could be with babe by the time they returned to Westeros? Surely her father would not kill the father of his own grandchild. 

She could spin their romance into a romantic tale as much as possible and perhaps make Daenerys give Theon some sort of honor in Essos. Surely she had conquered something by now. Meera could attest to Theon being of the gentlemanly sort prior to their vows. 

Sansa had not been particularly pleased with the lack of communication from the East from the moment they had arrived into their childhood selves. There had been no way to safely send information back and forth. She was not a hundred percent that Dany had made it back, but she was going to follow her instinct on the assumption. 

“We do not know where she is, your royal highness,” Theon said quietly. A loud noise drew her attention to the giant monstrosity of what she had learned was called a pyramid. She could not help but gasp and grin brilliantly as she watched Drogon make laps around the tall building. 

“Well, the dragon is probably a good indicator,” she quipped. 

Theon opened his mouth to retort before he stiffened as the dockmaster made his way to them. Theon slid in front of her, his hand on the hilt of his sword. Sansa reached into the folds of her skirt to clutch the dagger she kept hidden. Lady’s fur began to stand up as her wolf showed teeth and Meera simply adjusted herself to be slightly in front of Sansa. 

Sansa eyed the man cooly from behind her companions. A hooked nose and long flapping robes, he reminded her of Maester Pycelle, and that was never a favorable comparison for anyone.

“Your Royal Highness, Princess Sansa of House Stark, the Redwolf of Winterfell with her betrothed, Lord Paramount Theon of House Greyjoy, Warden of Freedom Bay. Welcome to Mereen, Her Imperial Majesty, Daenerys, Empress of Western Essos, bids you welcome,” the man said in a weasley sort of tone. 

Sansa was not often shocked by she found herself with her mouth open like the river fish of the Tully’s and held back her snort at the Imperial Majesty. Theon was shock stiff beside her and Sansa almost crooned in delight. 

Daenerys was fixing her problem most easily. 

However, if Daenerys was thinking to leave her in Essos out of some angle to protect her, she had another thing coming. Sansa dealt with enough of her sister and King Cousin trying to protect her from even a pinprick, but she was of the North and she would be where the war would be. 

They could return and rule over the Empress’s bay when the world was safe and the Lion’s no longer held any sort of power. It was not the North, but it was about as far as you could go in the civilised world to be away from King’s Landing. 

Looking around, she thought perhaps it had its own type of wildness. 

“That is lovely to know we were expected, good ser. Perhaps, you could provide an escort for my intended, my handmaiden, and myself. Lord Greyjoy will want to hear the reports of the Bay,” she said sunnily even as the man turned to lead them away. 

She hooked her arm into a still shocked Theon’s and prodded him forward. 

“Sansa...it’s not right...if your Lord Father hears of us going about pretending to be betrothed…” 

Sansa stopped and glared at him. Did the man somehow forget they had been pretending to be married on the entire voyage over? Granted, it had been slightly awkward as Meera had stayed in their cabin as well. Sansa did not want to know what the crew had even begun to think. 

“I do not know where we will find a Heart’s Tree here or a priest of the Drowned God, but I assure you we will be wed as soon as I find one or the other.”

She did not stop again, just expected him to keep up. 

They were taken to a rather large manse. Beautiful with vines and flowers growing everywhere. She smiled brightly as she saw lemon trees and even Theon could not help but chuckle at her delight. 

“We will plant an orchard of lemon trees,” she said excitedly, “With lemon cakes every day. I wonder if I will crave them when I am with child as much as mother claims she craved citrus.”

“Sansa…” Theon began, his voice barely a frog’s croak, but she shot him a look so full of fire that he immediately shut his mouth. 

“Blood of my blood.” 

Sansa shut her eyes briefly before turning to face Daenerys. 

“Your Imperial Highness?” she said with a slight hint of mischief in her tone as she dipped a low curtsy. Theon went down on one knee, slightly behind her. Sansa reached out and yanked him forward, this time he stared back at her with his own heat and aggravation. She saw Meera bend a knee behind them. 

“By my side, soon to be husband,” she murmured. 

“Oh, get up the both of you. Come inside, we have much to discuss,” Daenerys was pulling Sansa forward the minute she rose. Theon rushing to keep up. They ended up being led into an open room with large windows. 

“What in the world were you thinking?” Daenerys asked sternly once she released Sansa. 

“Do you know how much trouble this could have caused when Jon sent me a message to let me know you were coming?” she continued, voice heated. 

Sansa stared at her with ice in her eyes, “It was necessary. Jon knows it too, he is just angry that I chose to come myself. We will be at war soon, if we are not already, with all three Baratheon’s no longer. Jon Aryn should be in the North by now if Lord Reed followed my instruction and beyond the ability for dear Aunt Lysa to dose him.” 

“And pray tell why it was vital for you to come instead of the King choosing who he wanted to send,” Dany’s voice still held fire, but Sansa could hear the underlying worry. 

“Dany, you need me to be with you, a true Stark, when you bring a foreign army back to the shores of Westeros. You need the support of more than words and letters from the North,” Sansa pleaded with Daenerys to hear her wisdom. 

Finally, Daenerys sighed and slumped into a rather plush looking chair. Sansa sat in the one in front of her and motioned for Theon to sit beside her. He gave her a nonplussed look but eventually slumped down. 

Daenerys laughed slightly as she watched them. 

“By the time you return North, dearest, you will no longer be a Stark, but a Greyjoy,” Daenerys chuckled, before waving away any more argument that could be had. 

“We are going to Braavos first, to meet with the Iron Bank on Jon’s behalf. Then we will set sail for Dragonstone.” 

Sansa found herself leaning back into the chair and settling to think as the new game board was laid out in front of her. 

  
  


[](https://www.flickr.com/photos/183137222@N05/48853949408/in/dateposted-public/)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is the chapter I have enjoyed writing the most. I discovered my love of Jon and Margaery during it and all the endless possibilities with it. It might seem a bit cliche, but looking at the entirety of the world and how my story is set up, Jon will be making self-sacrificing choices and Margaery is the best political choice there is. 
> 
> I loved the fact he wants the entirety of his family to be able to marry for love, but he in itself is completely willing to do his duty so they can. 
> 
> Although, I do hope my muses lead me down the path of love growing between the two of them.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A match made, a hand found, and one wedding down.

**The Rose Road to Highgarden**

* * *

Lady Catelyn Tully could not help but be amused at the sight that awaited them up the rose road. She should not be surprised that the rumor of who traveled to Highgarden had lit the ears of the wind into the Queen of Thorns herself. 

It certainly was not the High Lord of the Reach that had prepared such a flourishing welcome guard for Robb’s and her small retinue of twenty guards from Winterfell and the fifty more from her father. 

She had been startled by the vehemence by which her father took to calling his banners until he had shown her Lysa. Her sister was well dosed with milk of the poppy, every few hours, and when Catelyn had shown her outrage they had let the sedation wear off briefly. 

_ “Whore! You whore! You took my Petyr’s heart from me. If you had not made your eyes at him and stolen his soul then he would have left with me when I conceived the first time,” Lysa Arryn had shrieked at her sister.  _

_ “Lysa, please, calm yourself. We are family and sisters,” Catelyn had tried to calm her younger sibling.  _

_ The woman she barely recognized had shrieked with outrage, “I AM NO SISTER TO A SAVAGE. Should have pushed you into the river when we were younger and I would have been the favored one. You are the northern whore who could not even keep her husband in her bed. In fact you ran him off after the first time you slept with him into the arms of another where he gave her a child. You have no right to judge.” _

_ “I’m not judging you, Ly…” Catelyn tried again, hearing her words catch in her throat as she tried to control her desire to cry.  _

_ It was apparently the wrong thing to say as the mad woman flew from the bed in an uncharacteristic show of strength, hands outstretched as if to wrap around her sister’s throat. Before Lysa could make it to Catelyn, Edmure caught her and thrust her back onto the bed as a Maester immediately forced more of the elixir down her throat.  _

_ Catelyn sobbed without shame and found herself starting to collapse, but Robb wrapped his arms around his mother and removed her from the room.  _

_ “We will not be returning to this room and I expect my mother to be housed as far away from here as possible until we leave,” he growled to his grandfather who simply nodded and turned to walk away.  _

The shame that her sister had brought upon her house had caused Lord Hoster Tully to fold into himself, a shell not even half the man he had been. When Catelyn had shared her news she had been half worried how her father would respond, but he had shocked them all. 

Lord Hoster Tully apparently thought a change in regime and the Tully’s being practically family to the King would restore their honor if he was among the first to swear again to House Targaryen. Then he had insisted on sending a group of men North to join with the men already having gone with her Uncle Brynden with a direct message swearing Tully to Targaryen. Finally, he’d sent another bunch of Lannister men and Edmure with herself and Robb. 

_ “It will be known that Tully House escorted the Queen to be and the Hand of the King safely to Winterfell. Our honor will be restored!”  _

Catelyn felt a bit like her father was losing what bit of sanity he had left, but in all honesty it was nice not to have to battle for her own families allegiance. 

“Sister?” Edmure asked her as she slowed her steed, therefore causing the rest of the part to slow as well. 

“You to the right of me and Robb to the left. King Aegon named me his voice in these matters and we must make it clear from the beginning,” Catelyn murmured as both moved as indicated.

They reached the impasse and Catelyn immediately knew the man at the head must be Loras Tyrell. He was as pretty as a man could be. 

“Lady Stark, Lord Robb, Lord Edmure, be welcome to Highgarden,” the man said with a lilting voice. 

Catelyn smiled, “We thank you for your hospitality and would not wish to be a burden, but I am afraid I must speak with the Lord of the Reach and Lady Olenna Tyrell in a matter of urgency.”

For his part, Loras Tyrell did not react beyond a slightly furrowed brow. 

“Please follow me, Lady Stark. My guards will escort your retinue to where they may see to the horses and bunk down,” Loras instructed and Catelyn agreed readily. 

They were led along a beautiful road that led to an absolutely breathtaking castle. Catelyn had seen Highgarden once, many years ago when she was just a girl, but the sight was still awe inspiring.

When they were lead into the main courtyard it was to a line of people waiting to greet them.

“She is beautiful,” Robb said quietly behind Catelyn and she gave her son a quieting look, but could not help but agree.

Margaery Tyrell was every bit as beautiful as the tales told. Ethereal almost with delicate features and a tall disposition. She would look striking besides Jon and they would both make a picture worth rallying around. 

“Lady Catelyn, please be known to my father, the Lord Mace Tyrell,” Loras introduced her to his father and she gave a curtsy. 

“My son and heir to Winterfell and the North, Robb of House Stark and my brother and heir to Riverrun and the Riverlands, Edmure Tully,” she introduced her companions. 

“Well good, the men have been introduced. Perhaps we could get over these platitudes and get to where we could be sitting down instead of standing around like a set of prancing ponies,” the formidable Queen of Thorns spoke and Catelyn resisted the urge to turn and pinch her son at his snort of amusement. 

“”I agree, Lady Olenna. I believe you will find that what we bring to offer is well worth the time as is the expediency,” Catelyn remarked cooly as she met the older woman’s gaze. 

Lady Olenna’s eyebrows shot up and the woman snorted .”You really have turned into an ice fish haven’t you? I remember you as a sassy young girl trying to be a lady. Well, I’m not getting any younger. Mace, come along, let’s get to it.” 

“Mother, we have not ever introduced Marga…,” Mace started, but Olenna cut him off. 

“Now, Mace,” she snapped and turned to move back up into the castle proper. 

They followed the Tyrell’s into what was obviously a sitting room for visitors to meet with the family. After being sat down and refreshments served, Lady Olenna looked around at everyone. 

“I hope you are not coming here to offer your son’s hand, because our Margaery was not meant for the cold north,” Olenna stated bluntly. 

Catelyn sat her tea cup down onto the saucer and set it to the side, having already decided the straight forward approach would be best. 

“You were the last house to bend the knee to Robert Baratheon and only so that House Tyrell would survive and grow stronger, yes?” she mused and watched as the room seemed to freeze and Olenna Tyrell narrowed her eyes. 

“You know your history, Lady Stark, but why is the wife of Robert Baratheon’s biggest ally sitting in my castle and telling my own history to me?” Olenna bluntly asked and Catelyn gave a razor sharp smile. 

“House Targaryen has not forgotten your loyalty,” she said without any further prompting and held her hand out to Edmure who pulled the scroll from his pocket. The outside was stamped with the Targaryen seal and was unbroken, though Catelyn knew the contents was an official copy of the birth announcement for Jon and the marriage declaration of Lyanna of House Stark to Rhaegar of House Targaryen and Elia of House Targaryen and Martell. 

It was signed by the high septon from Oldtown from before the rebellion and Olenna Tyrell would recognize it for its authenticity. 

She handed the scroll to the older woman and quietly said, “I was instructed to give this to you unbroken. It is one of ten such scrolls, written before the end of the war, and saved in a very special tower.”

The scrolls and the letters to Jon from Rhaeger, Lyanna, and more shockingly Elia had been a source of great joy and sorrow for her nephew when Ned had presented them. He had read them before his mother’s statue and Catelyn had not been able to not go to the boy in comfort when he had broken down crying. 

_ “I am not a green boy and we do not have time for me to be blubbering like a whale,” Jon had practically wailed from where Catelyn held him tight.  _

_ “You are a man grown, twice over nephew, but even grown men can grieve,” she said soothingly as she pressed his hair down in a petting attempt to sooth him.  _

_ He had chuckled through his tears, “Sansa used to say something similar.”  _

_ Catelyn had froze, “You miss her?” she murmured, not quite realizing till this moment how close her eldest daughter and nephew had grown. She pushed aside the desire to try and alter their plans for Sansa to marry Jon.  _

_ Jon leaned back and looked to his aunt, “She was the first bit of hope I had that my world had not irrevocably changed from everything I had ever known. She became the idea of hope for me and Dany became a source of strength,” he said quietly. _

_ “Sounds like they were both very special to you and I am not surprised you miss them both greatly,” she comforted.  _

_ Jon leaned back against the statue of his mother, gathering Ghost and Vargas close to comfort them, as he regarded Catelyn.  _

_ “They were both very special women who ended up having to save themselves from unspeakable torments and it about broke me to realize I am helpless to protect them now,” he admitted and Catelyn shook her head, trying not to smile.  _

_ Trust a man to carry guilt because of situations out of his own control.  _

Catelyn came back to reality at the sound of Olenna’s gasp. 

“The bastard of Winterfell...all this time,” the old woman muttered and Catelyn had to smile at the woman’s shock and bewilderment . If she accomplished nothing else renowned in this life, there would never be forgetting that she had once stumped the ruling Queen of Thorns from House Tyrell. 

“Now,” Catelyn said calmly and picked her teacup back up, “About Margaery.” 

  
  


**Winterfell**

* * *

Jon stared out over the battlements of Winterfell, his heart heavy as he worried about every member of his pack spread from Winterfell to Essos to the South. Ghost stood vigil beside him and Vargas was making laps around the keep. It was late enough that very few people would be out and Lord Reed had already departed with his riders to each of the Northern Houses with word of his existence and calling the banners forth. 

Time for summer memories was ending and they stood on the precipice of winter and there was so much more to do this time than prepare the stores of food before the first snow. He stared at Vargas for a moment, relishing in the growth she’d made in the past nine moons and knowing it would not be much longer before he could ride the skies with her. He felt a momentary pang for Daenerys and their shared rides. 

He shared the snow and the rough earth with his wolf cousins, but the skies he shared with his dragon-kin. 

“Staring out mulishly into the night is not going to bring any of them back any sooner, brother,” Arya’s voice was light with mischief, but Jon could hear the underlying worry underneath. 

He turned and gave her a wry grin and chucked as Nymeria bumped into Ghost and then took off chasing him down the stone path. 

“Will we ever stand here again, Arya? Stand here after surviving the long night?” Jon asked quietly. 

Arya did not answer him seriously, “Brother, are you seriously standing up here in our second life and worrying about fucking it up to?” 

Jon grimaced. It was one thing to listen to his sister grown cursing worse than Theon, but to hear it from her youthful voice was almost too much. 

“May I join you?” Ned’s voice came from behind them and Jon felt an eerie sense of a memory come over him of Daenerys asking the same thing once upon a time before they awakened in the past. 

“Of course, Father,” Arya answered for him and slid over so Ned could stand in between them. 

“What has been on your mind, Jon,” Ned asked after they had settled. 

Jon sighed. He could not act like he had not known this was coming. 

“What...what happened after you returned to King’s Landing and found out what happened to my...my stepmother and my siblings,” he asked, voice barely a whisper. 

Ned was quiet for a moment before answering, “I was outraged. Aerys was supposed to be removed and Rhaegar already dead on the trident, but Elia and her children were supposed to be taken to Dorne. The letters I gave you were supposed to be given to her and...and I was supposed to give you as well.” 

Ned became choked as Jon stilled completely. He should not have been surprised, but then the letter from Elia to his mother had left him beyond shocked. 

_ My Dearest Wolf,  _

_ These days among this den of evil are among the hardest I have ever lived. Our husband is gone and I am only left my children to bring joy into my life in this cesspool of evil. I count the days and the moons until we are all united, our children together as siblings should be, and our family complete in the water gardens of my youth.  _

_ I know you wish not to think or hear it, my dearest, but I fear I must share the honest truth of what I fear the most. I fear our children dead, myself dead, and our silver prince dead and you alone with the babe. I have tried everything I know to get word to the North and to your brother’s of the truth, but I fear my attempts are being subverted by someone.  _

_ I can trust no one. If all else fails, go to my brothers and show them this letter. They will recognize my hand for truth. Show them the scrolls that were prepared. Ask them to protect you and to protect our little dragon-wyrm. Surround yourself with the might of Dorne and the might of the North. Remained untamed, my wolf, and I will pray for our reunion. _

_ Devotedly yours,  _

_ The Sun  _

  
  


Jon had barely been able to breath from the grief that shook him finally for all that was taken from him. He had felt his soul break into a thousand pieces and strangely it was his aunt who helped him be put back together. 

Now, to know that he was supposed to be raised in Dorne with Elia as his mother and his siblings around him, but they were stolen as well...it hurt in a way that Jon could not describe. Then a strange guilt settled over him as well, because then he would never have known his father and his adopted siblings. It was a strange sensation of being torn both ways. 

“I almost called the banners back to put you on the throne with a regent,” Ned said after a moment and this time Arya and Jon turned in shock. 

Ned for his part looked a bit angry at their shock, “Robert had just referred to your siblings as dragonspawn and better off dead. He laughed when he heard of what happened to Elia. Then when he refused me the right to kill those responsible, I almost did it. I should have…” 

“No, you should not have,” Arya said sternly and Ned looked down at her with a raised brow. 

She shook her head frustrated, “Westeros was already torn from war and could not have survived another one without the decimation of more great houses. More than that, the lie had already been told of Rhaegar taking my aunt, and now we must only hope enough time has passed for that to have ebbed into a tinder instead of flame of northern temper.”

Jon nodded, “Arya is right, but there is something else that must be done sooner than later.”

They both looked to him and Arya sighed as if she knew where this was going. 

“I must go to Dorne,” Jon said quietly, “And I will take the heads of Gregor Clegane and Amory Lorch with me.”

Jon did not say anything else as he turned and began walking down the stairs, but Arya reached out as she took her father’s hand who had silently began to shake. 

“Jon,” he called out, voice rough, and watched as Jon turned. 

“Upon Benjen’s arrival, I will go with you and we will right the wrong together.”

Jon nodded briskly and then turned his back again and disappeared into the darkness at the bottom of the battlements. He made it all the way to the doors leading into the keep proper before he had to lean against the wall and gather himself to keep from screaming with rage suddenly within him. 

**Highgarden**

* * *

“I don’t understand,” Mace said as he pushed the quill back and forth across his desk. 

His mother, Margaery, and Loras were all around his solar in different levels of comfortability. They were trading the scroll back and forth and each had different looks of pensive thought on their face. 

His mother, in a rare display of patience, just smiled at him before answering. 

“It means that Ned Stark was not the lapdog we all thought, nor was he a fool to the game. He simply went back to his den to await an appropriate time to act. This entire time there has been a dragon in Westeros, hidden from the lion’s that truly ruled, lying in wait to claim his throne. Ned Stark has been not only raising a King, but an army!” Olenna chuckled. 

She could admit that this was one time she truly was finding glee in her lack of knowledge. 

“But there is already an heir on the throne and we were to marry Margaery to him,” Mace almost whined, but Olenna was saved from having to snap by Margaery. 

She smiled brilliantly at her father, “Father, a false heir according to the Lady Catelyn and a cruel one according to Grandmother’s spies in King’s Landing. This, Aegon...Jon, seems to be a much better choice for the people and we will grow strong indeed with the people behind us.” 

Mace sighed and rubbed his eyes, “Are you sure, Marg? You truly want to travel North and marry this King?”

Loras sighed exasperated, “Father, I will not ever support the idea of Margaery marrying that poisonous sack of puss sitting on the Iron Throne, but I will also not support the idea of Margaery marrying below her worth. She was born to be Queen.”

Olenna had enough, “It is settled. We will go North and Margaery will marry the Dragon. Then we will join our armies to his and teach Tywin Lannister the truth of what happens when cats step on thorns.”

Mace just sighed and threw his hands up in surrender. Arguing with one of them was fine, but when all three were of a mind he had learned not to disagree. 

**The Road to Winterfell**

* * *

The closer Jon Arryn came to Winterfell, the more confused he felt. The boy was nothing but baffling and when they had come upon a small group of would be thieves not three days prior the boy had insisted on talking to them about their reasoning. 

Upon discussion with all four who had tried to raid their horses in the dead of night, all four had burst into pleas about sparing their lives. That they had come from the Dreadfort and Bolten lands looking for means to provide food for their families who were starving after a rash of disappearances of several young men that had been major providers and hunters for their small settlement. 

Brammen had listened intently then turned to Lord Arryn. 

_ “They be speaking the truth, Lord Jon, and there is something else hidden behind their words and fears. They have actual reason to fear. They should be coming to Winterfell with us. The King will be wanting a word,” the boy stated without prompting.  _

_ “The Warden you mean?” Jon said in correction.  _

_ The boy snorted, “I be meaning what I mean, but you are really not going to be knowing the truth of anything till we get to Winterfell now will you? We really should stop wasting time with these men and be on our way.” _

_ “It’s the middle of the night,” Lord Arryn had found himself dryly responding. It had been a long time since a boy of few years tested him so.  _

_ “Well, these nice men got us all up, alert, and ready like didn’t they? We should be taken advantage and making way,” the boy cheekily responded.  _

_ “How do you know they are telling the truth?” one of Lord Arryn’s men asked as they made way back to camp to apparently start back on their journey.  _

_ Brammen had stopped and actually looked a bit bashful, “I’m not supposed to be talking about it, you see. I just know when people be lying or telling the truth or hiding things, but Milord Reed says you southerner’s get all weird when people can do things like such.”  _

_ “My Lord,” Jon corrected without thinking, “And you don’t have to add you and be before every other word.” _

_ The boy looked at him and tilted his head as if confused as to why Jon was correcting him and damned if Jon did not understand it himself.  _

“We should be...we should see Winterfell in just a moment, My Lord,” Brammen said as they crested yet another hill. Jon looked ahead and found himself strangely excited, for all his love of his foster son, he had never traveled north. 

They made not many more feet before the height gave way to the tree line and their, down below, laid the great keep of Winterfell. It was vast and reminded Jon of Ned’s quiet strength. He felt as though not even the strongest winter storm would be able to blow even one stone from the walls of the North’s stronghold. 

The largest surprise though was what flew high above the rafters, directly beside the direwolf sigil of House Stark. There above the smaller banners for houses currently within the walls of the great keep, flew the large and dominating banner of House Targaryen. Even more shocking was the roaring noise above the keep and the great white dragon circling it. 

“Come, Lord Arryn. Come and meet the true King of Westeros,” Brammen said and Jon looked over still astonished. He took a deep breath and nodded. 

“Alright, boy, take me to see this King and to see Lord Stark so I might know the truth of these happenings.” 

**Essos-Mereen**

* * *

Sansa swallowed deeply as the slender fingers of Missandei worked over her hair in magic. 

“I will not do it Essosi, Princess Sansa, but in a simpler style that Ser Jorah described to me as one his mother wore. Will that be alright?” Missandei asked quietly. 

Sansa smiled back at the girl and pushed aside the watery feelings pressing at her. Missandei had been lost to the dead during one of the first attacks of the wights. It had been a hard loss for many, none as much as Daenerys. 

Daenerys had whispered her greatest fear into the night after Missandei had been killed and they sat before a fire sharing wine. 

_ “I see why so many of my ancestors were mad, Sansa. I feel it in me burning to be released. I want to tear those responsible limb from limb and even revenge has been taken from me because the enemy is already dead,” Daenerys broke down in great, gut wrenching sobs. _

_ “You are not mad and you will not go mad, Dany. You are not alone, we are here, your family is here,” she whispered as she held her best friend in her arms and tried to soothe away her fears.  _

Sansa snapped out of her memory and smiled at the girl. 

“That is perfect, Missandei,” Sansa murmured pushing aside all thoughts of melancholy. Today was the day she wed. They had decided to have Daenerys marry them before a lemon tree. It was not a heart tree and Sansa did not know if the old God’s could even see them, but they were going to stand by the shore and pray the drowned God could take their prayers. 

“It is a very northern look, if not one of the marshlands,” Lady Meera said amiably. 

Missandei looked up interested.

“Do your women not wear braids?” 

Meera laughed and her curls shook with her body. 

“Most of my people have hair like mine, a right, curly mess. Many of the women wear it short because the longer it is the more hassle,” she answered readily. 

“Are you ready?” Daenerys’s voice came from the door and Sansa turned and found herself frozen as Missandei shoved her face forward again. 

“You will mess up your braid, Princess Sansa,” the woman murmured. 

Sansa sighed and cut her eyes over to Daenerys who was grinning unashamed. 

“I just have the title, it’s Lady Missendei who runs things around here,” Dany chuckled as she took one side of Sansa’s hair, her fingers twisted the hair into a thick knot as they met Missandei’s. 

As the girls stepped back, Sansa stood up, the thin white silk of her dress clinging to her body. She still was not completely comfortable with the Essosi style, but she supposed if this was where she was going to make a life, she would need to get used to the style of her people. 

“You look beautiful, but I have something for you,” Daenerys said simply and Missandei brought forth a box. Daenerys opened it and Sansa gasped at the silver and jeweled belt. The intricate cords twined into kraken that hooked into the tail of the wolf it met on the other side. 

“Dany,” she murmured running her hands over the silver. The craftsmanship resembled the dragon Daenerys often wore on her shoulder. 

“You will need to give thought to what your house insignia will be,” Daenerys murmured as helped fasten the belt around Sansa’s waist. 

Sansa looked up with a pursed look, “I had not even given it thought. I suppose it would not be appropriate to use the Greyjoy Kraken or the Stark Direwolf in their true forms.” 

“Perhaps a joining just like your belt?” Missandei mused. 

Sansa smiled at her, “And you, Lady Missandei, are to be the Lady of Yunkai. What shall your house sigil be?”

Missandei appeared pensive, “I still do not quite understand the why of it, but I had given thought to use the broken shackle with a great serpent bursting from it. Greyworm saw a young boy drawing something similar down by the docks. He said it was the great mother serpent coming to break the chains of all slaves.”

Sansa laughed and Daenerys pinched her as she played those words over in her head. 

“I am a dragon, not a snake,” she said primly. The other two women smiled at one another before Sansa realized she had been led from the room without paying attention and out into a private courtyard where a wheelhouse waited. 

Taking a deep breath Sansa stepped into the wheelhouse. It was such an odd feeling to be going away from the pyramid that had been their home for going on two moons as an unmarried girl. She would return a married woman and within another fortnight the representative sent from the Iron Bank would arrive. If the rumors were correct then Lady Asha Greyjoy would be landing in Mereen with her fleet very soon. Theon not being on Pike did not change much, but when Euron took the salt throne in the Kingsmoot, Asha Greyjoy had already left with her ships and her men. 

A well timed raven from one Howland Reed had seen to that. Sansa was still amazed at how helpful Lord Reed had been. She looked to Meera, who managed to look as comfortable in the green silk as she did in northern furs. Meera had been a joyful surprise. Sansa did not realize in her first life how few true friends of her own years or close she had growing up. 

Jeyne Poole had truly been the only one and while Sansa cherished their past together, Jeyne would find her own way now. Sansa would do everything she could to make sure her first, dear friend did not suffer the way she had in the past. Yet, another thing Petyr Baelish would suffer if he was not already dead by the time she returned home. 

So lost in thought, Sansa did not realize how close they were until the wheelhouse slowed and stopped. The door opened and Greyworm stood at the ready with Ser Jorah. Ser Jorah helped her out, then Daenerys, Missandei, and Meera. 

Sansa took a deep breath and swallowed hard as she saw Theon. She blushed at his awestruck look as they joined everyone on the beachy surf. 

Daenerys stood in front of them, officiating from her official place as Empress of Western Essos. 

As the sun began to sink below the horizon, Sansa Stark shed the name of her childhood and took the name of her future for the first time as her own choice. Likewise, Theon Greyjoy stood across from her and shed the last of the boy to become the man. 

  
  



	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As summer comes close to ending, but Winter has yet to arrive, the Starks and Targaryens finalize their plans, bring in allies, and finally begin the journey to come together before taking on the Lannister’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here we are at chapter ten and only finishing the first arc of the story I originally planned to be only ten chapters for the entirety. It looks like we will round out at around 45,000 as we move into arc two. The first arc, of course, being Once Upon a Winter’s Tale. The Second arc now has a name and will be called The War of the Summer King. I thank everyone who has ridden along for this beginning and hope you enjoy as we wrap up stage one with chapter ten. From my revised outline it looks like it will be told in three arcs. 
> 
> So, just a couple things on the timeline. I want to remind everyone that this is an AU and that not everything that occured in the past timeline is book or show compliant. One large diversion is that Elia, Aegon, and Rhaenys were thought to be still alive by the time Ned reached the Tower of Joy. The sack of King’s Landing occurred while he was gone and when he returned it had been completed. This is where he discovered that the last three known royals were killed. He was not there when the sack actually occurred, but finding Lyanna. 
> 
> As to why Jon is named Aegon like his brother, I am going with the idea that Rhaegar was determined that an Aegon would sit the throne again. Therefore he named both of his son’s Aegon. 
> 
> Also, I will be going back and changing one slight naming issue with Essos. I was calling it Western Essos, but am going to be changing it to Eastern Essos. Thus, if you see the difference, it is on purpose. 
> 
> There are time skips in between locations of a greater amount now, specifically we go from a scene of Tyrell, Tully, and Stark party entering the North to arriving at Winterfell in the next location skip. 
> 
> I also have this theory that when Sansa smiles at people it makes them stupid with the light from her radiance, especially Greyjoy’s. 
> 
> I also have a headcanon of Jon being ridiculously romantic in gestures, but horribly inept at conversation.

**WINTERFELL- JON ARRYN**

* * *

Jon Arryn was not sure what to think about the world anymore. His fosterling, Ned, sat across the desk from him and stared silently after his incredulous tale of hidden marriages, princes, and alliances. 

“You loved Robert, Ned, as much as any man loves a brother,” Jon said cautiously. 

Ned sighed, “Jon, you were not there in the throne room that day as Robert gloated of the dead princess and her children. You did not see Lyanna as she pleaded with me to protect her son and to make sure his siblings and stepmother lived while Rhaegar and her died.”

Ned stopped as if he could barely stand to go on, “When I road into King’s Landing the people were silent, Jon. They looked at me with fear. Aerys was a mad king, by no one’s doubt, but they did not understand why Prince Rhaegar was dead. I think the right person could have rallied the city itself against the Baratheon and Lannister forces. Sometimes, I think I should have, but I decided caution was best and I took my army and my nephew and made for home.” 

Ned finally finished and looked directly at Jon, ”The boy I was a brother with died during the rebellion and I swore while Jon laid in his cradle that I would protect him all my days.”

Jon sighed and leaned into his hands. 

“My wife, Ned, she…,” Jon cut off in anger and looked away out the window. 

Ned grimaced, “I know, Jon, and you have done an honorable thing by putting her aside at Riverrun and not locking her away all of her days. The boy…” 

“Is my son and heir,” Jon stated quietly, “I know what the rumor’s will say, Ned, but he is the spitting image of my grandfather and I will not accept any words of bastardry.”

Ned nodded in agreement, “Will you bend the knee?” he asked bluntly after a moment and watched as Jon Arryn sighed again. 

“I send ravens last night calling my banners forth, Ned. I would not support that Lannister bastard on the throne, regardless of birth. We fought to remove a mad king, not to just place another on the throne,” Jon began, “Your nephew seems sound enough of mind, but then again so did Arys when he was young.”

Ned nodded along listening, “I think you will find Jon...Aegon, the King we were looking for when we first rebelled, regardless of reasoning behind it.”

“If only word had reached us before the trident,” Jon growled frustrated as he saw their world once again be torn apart by war. 

Ned froze and grimaced, “I think it did.”

Jon’s head shot up. 

“What do you mean?” he demanded. 

Ned stood and walked to the window, “I think that Robert knew the truth. I think Petyr Baelish discovered it long before the trident and I think they both hid what happened from the world. Specifically, I think Petyr Baelish kept word from getting to my father and Brandon. Then when their death brought about the calling of banners to protect Robert and I, Petyr leaned back as war broke out in revenge of Brandon almost killing him for Catelyn. When it became clear we would meet at the Trident, I think he told Robert the truth and I think Robert concealed it in anger of Lyanna not wanting him.” 

Jon inhaled sharply, “Ned...if...if that is the truth then everything we did against Rhaegar was treason.”

Ned nodded solemnly, “Thus why we will now make sure his son sits on the throne and justice is brought for Elia and his siblings.”

“And for Rhaegar and Lyanna,” Jon added as he joined Ned at the window. He could not help but grin as he looked down into the yard. 

His namesake that he apparently shared with the boy’s own brother, was sparring with his young cousin. He was stopping every few moments to fix young Brandon’s footwork. 

“You have much to be proud of, Eddard,” Jon finally said quietly. 

Ned looked back and grinned. 

“That I do.” 

**ESSOS- MEEREEN-SANSA**

* * *

Sansa smiled from her seat as Meera came into the room with yet another basket of items given in gift to the new Lady of Mereen. It was an odd feeling to find herself falling into the strange new hierarchy that was established throughout Dany’s kingdom in Essos. Eastern Essos they were calling it. 

She was very impressed by the actions taken to avoid the riots of the past that had occurred the first time. Dany swiftly bringing the slave masters and the markets to their knees in all three major port cities created a much more manageable system. She had known who to trust and who not to have faith in and she had used that to her advantage. 

Naming Grey Worm and Missandei as the Lord and Lady of Yunkai was smart as well. It was a good honor and together both of them would be able to keep the peace while the rest of them went to war. 

Sansa was glad to see that the two had found one another and established a relationship fairly quickly in this new world. They had been married going on three moons by the time Sansa and Theon arrived. 

Daenerys was still slightly put out she could not get Grey Worm to change his name, but the two had decided to take name Wyrmwood as their house. The Lord and Lady of Yunkai from House Wyrmwood. They both planned to find a child to adopt among the many orphans left from the uprising. Sansa had a feeling over the years that his name would naturally turn to Lord Grey Wyrmwood, but that was just her speculation. 

All that was left was to establish a house for Astapor. No fruitful suggestions had come of that as of yet. 

“Princess?” a voice called from the door and Sansa looked up from her stitching. Meera had seated herself beside her and another young girl, taken from one of the former ruling houses, was seated to her other side.

The girl had been a younger bastard daughter of a master, from a slave mother, but had been kept in the family due to her beauty from a young age. The master had thought to possible settle a decent marriage upon her for an alliance; however, the girl had been abused from a very young age at the hand of the man’s wife and trueborn children. 

Carys No Zaras had come to the pyramid in the dead of the night, half starved and beaten after the death of her father. She had snuck away to tell of a conspiracy where the widow’s of many of the master’s Daenerys had killed. They were planning to steal away with many slave children to make way for Quarth. She had not asked for anything but protection and care for the other children. 

Daenerys had saved the children and created the first orphanage for Eastern Essos children. Carys, she had kept close to her and settled the girl in the pyramid. When Sansa and Theon arrived, Carys had become their official ward. 

The girl had become Carys of House Daezas when she shed the name of her father and claimed the name free. She was the beginning of the first vassal houses to the Warden of Dragon’s Bay though only of ten and one years. She would remain in custody of Theon and Sansa until a marriageable age. She was a brilliantly smart girl with a political mind and Sansa had come to depend on the girl’s insights of Essosi politics and culture. 

The blending of the new and old had to be done with as much care as she put into stitching lace. 

“Asha Greyjoy has arrived and asked for an audience with Her Imperial Majesty, ” the unsullied guard informed her and Sansa quickly put aside her sewing. 

“Have ravens been sent to Yunkai?” she asked quickly as she stood and began to make way to the reception room. Of all times for Daenerys and Theon to be gone to help settle the new Lord and Lady of Yunkai. Carys and Meera joined her as they rushed along. 

“This is your husband’s sister?” Carys asked as they rounded the corner and entered into the hall. Sansa straightened her dress and made way up the stairs to seat herself upon the small stool like chair Daenerys had placed in the room. 

“Yes, she has come to ask for help in removing Euron, their uncle, from the salt throne. I suppose she is coming to ask for the throne back as well, but that will not be happening as of yet. Jon is not opposed to the idea in the long run, but we cannot afford for every kingdom to be running and  _ asking _ for their kingdom back,” Sansa said. 

Carys was quiet for a moment before she spoke and caused Sansa to startle. 

“It is not like you could offer it back, either? You are the Lady of Mereen, wife to the Warden of the Bay in Eastern Essos. You are Westerosi by birth, but your allegiance is to Eastern Essos,” the girl mused and Sansa stilled and looked to the girl who had spoken the many thoughts that had been running through her head ever since their actual arrival. 

“My alliegience is to the Empress as the wife of her chosen warden, yes, but we will be allying ourselves in the Westeros war. It might not seem like the best choice, but..” Sansa trailed off as her ward cut in. 

“It is a family matter and our culture will understand that, but it would be wise to present yourself from the very beginning in negotiations as Essosi over Westerosi,” Carys advised. Sansa nodded sharply, even as her heart hurt from the admittance. She would never be the Princess in the North, only a Princess from the North. The shedding of how she had defined her own person was both painful and freeing all at once. 

She straightened her skirts, the silk falling in waves around her skin, and her kraken and wolf belt fastened at her shoulder amidst the golden fabric. 

“The Lady Asha of House Greyjoy,” an unsullied soldier said as the Lady herself came in with a strong gait and two ironborn at her back. Sansa tilted her head to the side to take in Asha Greyjoy. 

She had not the honor in their prior life, having never been in the same place at the same time, but she could see hints of Theon in the woman. Where the strong ironborn features made her husband handsome, they had the effect of making Lady Asha look strong if not particularly pretty. 

“Who are you?” Asha asked bitingly and Sansa almost laughed out loud and pinched herself to keep from responding. 

“You stand before Lady Sansa of House Greyjoy, Princess from North Westeros, wife to the Lord Paramount of Dragon’s Bay, Theon of House Greyjoy. She currently sits as the ruling Lady of Mereen while her husband is in Yunkai with the Empress,” Carys said dryly. 

Sansa smiled brightly at Yara, “Be welcome to Mereen, Good-sister, we do have much to discuss.” 

Asha blinked rapidly at Sansa’s smile. 

“I suppose we do,” she finally stated dryly, “Perhaps with ale.”

Sansa did allow herself to laugh this time, “Aye, Lady Asha, I think we can find some ale for you.”

**ESSOS-YUNKAI-THEON**

* * *

Theon walked with Grey Worm as they reviewed the amount of grain and dried fruit with the Yunkai stores. He’d spent a large part of his time with the other man trying to impart all of the knowledge taught to him in the Stark household for ruling as a Lord. 

Lady Missandei was already particularly good at knowing what was needed, but Grey Worm had been a soldier and a commander all his life. 

“I still do not think I should be away from the Empress,” the commander of the unsullied forces and the royal army spoke bluntly as they walked yet another storehouse. 

Theon nodded in understanding. 

“I know it is difficult, but part of what Her Majesty is doing is creating stability. The sooner the ruling houses are in place and handling things such as disputes, treasuries, and seeing to the general welfare of the people then the sooner peace will be lasting,” Theon responded. 

Grey Worm grunted his acceptance of the words, but still had a look of general contrition. 

“You know more than most of the coming winter and the war that is to be fought. If we are all to survive and the world to have a semblance of order after, then we need Missandei and yourself here. I must go back to Westeros, Daenerys must go back, and Sansa must go back for us to fulfill the calling our gods have placed on us, but we need Missandei and yourself here to protect our homes,” Theon found himself instructing. 

Grey Worm looked over at Theon and studied him. It was an odd friendship that was growing between them, but a trusting one. 

“You will return our Empress and the Princess back to Essos where they belong,” he finally stated. 

Theon felt a strange sort of feeling at the faith Grey Worm had just placed on him. 

“Aye, I swear,” he finally said in response and they resumed their responsibility in quiet. 

Finally finishing they made their way back to gold pyramid,  Qaggaz, Theon and Greyworm are sidelined for Ser Jorah. 

“About time you got back, we sent a runner to find you not long ago. A raven came and the Queen is to fly you back to Mereen,” he said without any preliminary talk. 

Theon raised an eyebrow, “I thought we were to leave by horse day after tomorrow? What has happened?” he forced panic away from his voice. 

“Your sister happened,” Jorah responded dryly, “Apparently the winds were very kind to her voyage.” 

Theon could not help smiling at the news. Asha was finally here and with her half the iron fleet. With the rest of the fleets from Dragon’s Bay that made them ready to sail for Westeros. The only thing left was to meet with the Iron Bank representative and if Asha was here then the Iron bank was not far behind. 

“You look pleased,” Grey Worm said as they walked up the stairway into the first chamber of the man’s new seat of power. 

Theon thought on this and found that he could not disagree with the man’s assessment. 

“I have made choices to be proud of and my sister and wife await me in my own home. That is more than a ironborn boy held hostage to the north could ever expect,” he said quietly. 

“I thought you were a ward like the Lady Carys,” Grey Worm responded and Jorah snorted. 

Theon smiled wryly, “The Starks were good to me, Lord Stark acted as the only father I have ever truly known and could respect, but the truth is I was held to ensure my father’s cooperation.” 

Grey Worm nodded, “I see. You hold no resentment toward the family of your wife?” 

Theon laughed, slightly bitter, “Once upon a time I did. I thought they had turned me from my true path, but that path would have led me to be a reaper, reaver, and rapist by way of life. That is not the man I want to be. I want to be a man my wife can be proud of.”

“I think you might have accomplished that,” Jorah said from the side, “And I understand.” 

Theon met the man’s gaze and realized out of everyone alive, Ser Jorah could probably understand more than anyone. 

**THE ROAD TO WINTERFELL- MARGAERY**

* * *

Margaery pulled her cloak tighter around her body as the entire mixture of Tyrell, Tully, and Stark men made way North. They were large enough to draw attention, but not large enough to insight fear and worry. 

They had crossed the twin’s with little fanfare, though Lady Catelyn and her own Grandmother had come back from that negotiation both looking disgusted. 

“I’ll feel a hundred percent better about that situation as soon as that riff raff has been booted from those towers,” she had heard Lady Catelyn muttur under her breath and had been slightly confused. 

Did King Jon plan to remove the Frey’s? 

A young woman was with them who they introduced as the Lady Roslin Frey who was going to apparently marry Edmure Tully. Margaery was surprised to find the girl shy and charming. She was certainly not made for King’s Landing, the court would devour her, but perhaps the girl would make a good riverlands lady. 

Robb Stark had been distracted on the entire journey through the riverlands. He’d gone off several times with men and when he returned from villages and towns he appeared quieter and more solemn each time. 

“You are to be my cousin by marriage, Lord Robb. Surely you would find some relief in sharing your burden?” Margaery finally asked as she rode alongside him. 

She had ridden in the wheelhouse as much as she could manage. She had spent some time talking to the northmen and trying to discern the type of man her soon to be husband would be like. The northmen had been surprisingly tight lipped to her and to Loras. 

Robb Stark looked over at her and sighed, “My future wife is somewhere in the riverlands. I do not know where, but somewhere being a healer.”

Margaery looked over at Loras perplexed. 

“You do not know where your betrothed is?” Loras asked confused. 

Robb sighed, “I am afraid my future wife does not even know she is too be my wife. I am afraid I cannot say anymore until King Jon has spoken to you.” 

Margaery and Loras shared another look, but Margaery just pushed the curiosity aside. Apparently she would know when she was supposed to know. She looked around and wondered where her grandmother had gotten off to. 

Her grandmother, Olenna Tyrell, Hand of the King. The entirety of the situation was almost laughable in it’s sheer ludacrity, but it was the life they were living. 

“We are in the North,” Robb suddenly remarked and Margaery wondered specifically how he knew. It appeared to her as if nothing had changed. 

Robb suddenly looked over to Loras as they made their way down the road, “I don’t think anyone has said, but I would like to offer condolences for Renly Baratheon. I know you squired for him and were...close.” 

Margaery looked over in shock, but there was such an earnest look to Robb Stark’s face. He truly did feel remorse for Loras’s loss. 

“I thank you for your condolences, Renly was a good man, nothing like the usurper,” Loras said in response and Margaery marvelled at how easy it was to suddenly consider Robert Baratheon as such. 

“Hold for Stark men!” a man at the front of the line yelled back and the entire line came to a halt. 

“Excuse me,” Robb said quietly as he moved his horse around the assembly to make to the front. 

They were halted only briefly before moving again, apparently the men that had met them falling into the line. Robb galloped back to them, a grin on his face, and a package on his lap. 

“Is everything alright,” Margaery asked as Robb came back beside them. 

“Aye, the weather is turning the further we get north and the King and my father have sent provisions and furs as they knew that it would probably be a bit of a shock to you southron people,” Robb chuckled and Margaery looked to Loras and wondered if they were supposed to take offense at some slight. 

“I am unsure of what is humorous, Lord Robb,” Loras managed to say, voice only slightly tight. Robb looked up as if shocked and realized he was being offensive. 

“I apologize, My Lady, I am not laughing at you or your people. I was laughing that my cousin has apparently become quite considerate in his betrothed state. This is for you from Jon,” Robb explained as he handed the package over. 

Margaery could not help but smile. Presents were enough to make any woman happy, but her very first present from her betrothed was something special indeed. She handed her reins to Loras who kept her horse at a slow pace as she slipped her fingers into the cloth it was wrapped in. The cloth fell to the side and she hummed as she took in the red fur that was the first bit she saw. 

She pulled the fur out and watched as thickened material fell from the lining of the fur in a shimmering brilliance of black. Stitched into the back was a rose as red as the Targaryen sigil and a stem of brilliant green with gold thorns. It was both Targaryen and Tyrell in nature and she found herself running her fingers over the fine stitching and the soft fur. 

“It is beautiful,” Loras murmured and she looked up to meet his eyes and found a slight smile on his lips. 

“Jon sent a message with it,” Robb finally said and sounded slightly mischievous.

Margaery looked up to her soon to be good-cousin. 

“He said that no gift would ever match the news he has been gifted with the beauty of your heart, but that he hopes it will at least offer comfort as you come North,” Robb said, a slightly reddish hue to his cheeks. 

“Well, he certainly has his father’s silver tongue,” Lady Olenna chuckled as she rode up next to them, Lady Catelyn directly behind. 

“I wonder what he has heard of me?” Margaery murmured as she ran her fingers up and down the length of the thoughtful gift. 

“When we were in the Riverlands, you stopped the procession to see to a couple of children that were dirty and wondering the side of the road. You refused us to move on till you saw them settled. They somehow became part of our retinue with the cook who needed a couple hands. The cook is quite pleased, to be honest, as his wife at home has always lamented they were unable to have children,” Lady Catelyn said and everyone turned. 

Margaery blushed brightly. She had felt bad about holding the party up, but the children had clearly been starving and the people of the small town were just allowing it to happen. 

“I sent a raven to Jon. You are to be Queen, not just of the nobility, but to the people. I knew the act would make him smile,” Lady Catelyn finished. 

Lady Olenna was watching the woman with a strange light to her eye, “Well, Lady Stark, I thought you a mere cold fish willing to do your duty as needed, but I see now that you are just a romantic at heart.”

Lady Catelyn looked at Margaery’s grandmother with a raised eye, “Lady Hand, what would you wish for the man who enabled all of your children to wed for love and not duty?” 

Lady Olenna leaned back and grinned, “A pretty luck of the draw when it came to finding a wife for his duty.”

Lady Stark looked scandalized for a moment, but then she laughed, loud and bright. 

“My Lady Mother has lost her mind,” Robb Stark muttered under her breath before loudly remarking, “We are in the North, perhaps we could actually make good time if we kept moving.” 

“Right so,” Margaery found herself remarking as she suddenly looked forward to meeting her betrothed, butterflies twisting into her stomach. 

She kicked her horse into a faster pace to match Robb Stark’s and assumed the rest of the group would match pace to keep up. After all, she was the future Queen and it was about time she began to act and believe it. 

**ESSOS- MEEREEN-SANSA**

* * *

Sansa had spent a large portion of two days with Asha, telling stories of Theon’s youth in Winterfell and watching as the fierce Ironborn laughed and a smile softened her face. 

Strangely, it had been Lady Asha who first realized the secret Sansa was holding close. Meera and Carys knew because they had been with her when she saw the healer, but Asha had flat figured it out. 

_ “Do you not enjoy spirits, Sansa?” Asha asked as she drank deeply of the wine and her eyes following the pretty maid who had served them. _

__

_ Sansa hummed, “Only occasionally, but I have lost the taste completely recently.” _

_ Asha raised an eyebrow and looked at the assortment of olives, pickled fruits, stuffed grape leaves, and lemon cakes laid out over the table.  _

_ “Is this reasoning of losing the taste also the reason for gaining such an interesting taste in random delicacies?” Asha finally asked, trying not to grin at the blush that crossed Sansa’s cheeks.  _

_ “You cannot say anything! I want to tell Theon before he has a chance to hear from anyone else!” Sansa said hotly.  _

_ Asha laughed, “I won’t be running my tongue, little sister, but you should be prepared to know Ironborn babies are extremely stubborn and active from the womb.”  _

_ Sansa gave her a nonplussed look, “Perhaps, but Northern babies are known to be calm in the face of calamity from conception.” _

_ Asha burst out laughing and Sansa could not help but follow her good-sister into uproarious mirth.  _

_ “It is a good thing that the baby is Essosi then, is it not?” Carys said from the corner where she was helping Meera stitch the direwolf and kraken joined emblem that had become the sigil of Theon and Sansa’s new house. It was gold and silver in nature against a white background. It looked startlingly significant when flying directly under Targaryen red and black.  _

Asha was with her in the gardens when Carys came running to tell them that Drogon had been sighted flying towards Mereen and that a ship had arrived in the harbor with a representative from the iron bank. 

Sansa sighed and dusted the dirt off her fingers where she had been weeding around the herb garden, the smell of mint strong on her body. She stood and let Carys help pull the apron she had worn to protect her underclothes off her body. She smiled in appreciation as Asha dusted her off as well, even if she knew it was simply a way for the woman to touch her posterior. 

Sansa had decided to accept the rather uncouth way of her husband’s family members. She knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Asha Greyjoy would not harm a hair on her head. 

Carys came and helped to wrap her in the simpler half tokar she wore when doing duties of the household. The tokar in itself was one of the concessions they had made when the blending of the cultures began. While the entirety of the traditional clothing for the master’s had swiftly gone out of fashion, they had created a fashion of wrapping the traditional tokar only around the neck and the arm. It created a shawl of sorts, but allowed for better movement among the legs and torso. 

Sansa was pleased with this as she did not like being wrapped tight like one of the wrapped grape leaf delicacies she had recently become fond of. 

The three of them rushed back into the pyramid to make way to top counsel room that Sansa knew Daenerys would land Drogon. They had just settled in when the sound of wings hitting the wind reached them and then their they were. 

Theon jumped down first and turned to offer his arm to Daenerys. He had barely settled their Empress onto the ground before turning and sweeping Sansa into his arms. Sansa sighed in relief, not realizing how much she had missed the man who was her husband. She buried her fingers into his hair and kissed the side of his neck where he had tucked her head. 

“Asha.”

Sansa could hear the smile in Theon’s voice and she released him so that he could clasp his sister’s arm with his own. 

“Baby brother, it seems you have come up well in the world. A lordship, a pyramid, and a wife prettier than any thrall, salt wife, or rock wife I’ve ever seen,” Asha chortled as she pulled him into a tight hug.

Sansa smiled as Theon seemed to almost fall into it. 

“How was everything?” Daenerys said coming up behind Sansa. Sansa smiled and gave a quick dip of a curtsy. 

“Quite peaceful, to be honest. We had one slight dispute over land parcels, but as always Carys has been a godsend with her translating and suggestions. The iron bank representative arrived today and the counter’s have finished taking inventory of the exact wealth we hold now from the seizing of the Master’s in Yunkai, Mereen, and Astapor. We have also received tithes from many of the small communities and farms in your Kingdom. I sent out missives with representatives asking for them to stop until we had a clear system to record who had tithed and paid taxes,” Sansa answered as Theon and Asha stepped back from one another. 

“That is good,” Daenerys said pleased.

“How did Lord and Lady Wyrmwood settle in Yunkai? Were the stores and treasury estimates correct?” Sansa asked as they moved to sit around the table. 

“Better than the estimates and the people are pleased with their new lord and lady. We set up more food stations and healing stations while we were there and started to do thorough investigations to those left of the old high class,” Daenerys said as she accepted a glass of wine from Carys. Carys did not even offer Sansa one, simply handed her a glass of sweetened lemon water. Daenerys narrowed her eyes and Sansa pleaded with her to be quiet with a look. 

Dany smiled brightly and nodded, only reaching over to grasp Sansa’s hand in commiseration of the recognition of her secret. 

A runner came in with a message which Carys took before returning to the table. 

“The Iron Bank representative has asked for an audience in the morning with the Lady of Mereen. I do not believe they knew Your Majesty was back when they sent the note,” Sansa advised. 

Daenerys nodded, “As long as they do not have a surprise waiting for us, we will easily pay off the debt incurred by the Iron Throne. You and I both know this will...shall we say, endear them to us?”

Sansa nodded in agreement, “And keep them from going to the Lannister’s for any type of payment. They will probably also refuse a loan to the Lion’s. Also, Galazza Galare is requesting a meeting to discuss plans for the Princess Sansa to wed Lord Theon in the faith of the Graces,” Carys said as she slid into her seat. 

“They will not be stripping and examining my wife,” Theon immediately growled out. 

“Peace, Lord Husband, from our discussions in the past we are working around the examination as we are already followed by our own Empress. This is simply a precaution to help tie the loyalty of the people to us,” Sansa said simply and put a hand on her husbands arm. He placed his other hand over hers and squeezed her fingers gently. 

Theon finally nodded in acquiescence and reached over the brush a stray hair out of Sansa’s eyes. He glanced over her plate and Sansa could see the creasing in between his brows as he took in the plate of treats, with no meat, and her lemon water. 

Sansa sighed in exasperation. It seems as if she was never going to be able to actually speak the words. 

“The Blue Grace says that it is normal for the stomach to turn at heavy meat or fish in the first few months,” she said quietly and watched as Theon stilled completely. 

“Truly?” he whispered in a hush and looked at Sansa. Sansa nodded slowly, watching for disappointment, but relaxing when she saw none. 

“A babe,” he murmured looking at her as if she was the most amazing thing the world had ever created, “You are giving me a child.”

Sansa tilted her head in slight confusion. How in the world that was a surprise as often as they had…? 

Then she could say no more because she was being pulled up out of her chair and into her husband’s arms. 

“A child,” Theon murmured again, “You are making me a father. I will be a good one, I swear it, Sansa.” 

Sansa smiled and just leaned into his arms. 

“I never had any doubt, husband.”

“The first heir to be born will be a thing to celebrate, indeed,” Daenerys said as she came to hug Sansa in congratulations. The well wishes continued until late into the evening when they retired. 

As Sansa laid in Theon’s arms she grinned up at him. 

“If it is a boy?” she asked. 

“Robb,” Theon responded immediately. 

Sansa smiled into his chest, “And if it is a girl we shall name her Allanys.” 

Theon inhaled sharply and pulled Sansa up to press a kiss onto her lips. 

“Aye, Robb or Allanys.” 

**WINTERFELL-JON AND MARGAERY**

* * *

Jon laughed as he watched Arya mow down into little Rickon as they wrestled playfully to the ground as Shaggydog did the same to Nymeria. Bran stood quietly beside him. 

“Jon,” Bran said at almost a whisper and Jon shut his eyes as his heart broke. The tone to Bran’s voice was well beyond the years the boy should have and it was solemn with very little emotion. 

“Bran,” he remarked back and looked down. 

“Jojen is here,” Bran responded seriously and Jon knelt down to meet his young cousins eyes. 

“I can take you. I will take you, take you both if I need to. Vargas can soon carry three,” he said hoarsely and Bran shook his head. 

“No, Jon. You are not meant for beyond this wall this time and it will not be the same as last time,” Bran answered him. 

“Please, stay, till your Lady Mother is home, Bran,” Jon begged, hands coming up to cup the other boys face. 

Bran hesitated and grew very quiet and still, his eyes turning white, and Jon hung his head as he awaited the answer. 

Finally, Bran’s eyes opened and he put a hand on Jon’s shoulder. 

“I will wait till she is home, but we must leave soon after the wedding,” he answered to Jon’s relief. 

“Aye. Do you know if Uncle Benjen is close?” Jon asked finally. 

Bran closed his eyes and opened them again and nodded. 

“Three days,” he said simply. 

“Could he accompany Jojen and you beyond the wall?” Jon wondered. 

Bran nodded, “He is going to. He is also going to arrange for the wildings to come to this side of the wall. We have much work to be done in the far north to guarantee victory.” 

Jon startled and looked over, “That much has changed?”

Bran gave a tilt of his head in consideration, “For the better.”

“Your Grace!” the sound of Ser Rodrick’s voice made him smile and he turned to greet the master-at-arms. 

“Ser Rodrick,” he said as he began to walk to the other man. The man gave a slight bow, most having long learned Jon did not appreciate all of the kneeling on a regular basis. 

“There have been banners sighted around ten miles out.”

Jon nodded and looked over to Bran. 

“It is them,” the boy agreed and Jon could not help but feel his stomach tighten in anticipation. How strange is it that here in this time he was going to marry a lady of a great house through contract and negotiation. 

He had cherished every letter his aunt and cousin had sent. There had been only one from Margaery, but it had been kind and sweet. He had tucked it into the pocket sewn into his jerkin and had kept it with him since. He had knelt before the heart tree every morning and prayed that his lady wife and himself could come to love one another as his aunt and uncle had. 

Arya joined them as they began to walk back into Winterfell proper to clean up and dress. The procession would reach Winterfell by nightfall. Jon met one of his namesakes on the way to his chambers after parting with Arya and dropping Rickon and Bran off with the nursemaid. 

“Lord Arryn,” he said in greeting. His relationship with the elderly lord of the Eerie had been an interesting one. Jon Arryn was not afraid to tell him what he thought about Jon’s own plans as he continued to develop them with his father. Jon had already taken to leaning on the man for his blunt truth quite a bit and for the help to temper Lord Stark’s consistent need to put honor over common sense. 

“I hear your bride will be arriving tonight along with the new Hand,” Jon Arryn said with a tilt to the head. 

Jon almost laughed. He knew that many a lord of Westeros was going to be trying to figure out the science behind making Olenna Tyrell Hand, but Sansa had been almost certain that she was the best choice. 

_ “There will be many things that define your rule from any other Targaryen...from any other King… Jon. We want the majority of those things to be a positive in the long run, but by making Olenna Tyrell your Hand people will learn very quickly not to expect anything from you. She is adept at the Game and will be able to guide and guard you. If you marry Margaery then you will be part of Olenna’s family and that will make her even more inclined to guide. However, you cannot have one without the other. If you do not marry Margaery, another Hand must be chosen.”  _

Sansa’s words on this and many other things stayed with Jon. 

“Yes, they will. I will admit to a slight case of nerves,” Jon honestly replied to Lord Arryn. Lord Arryn chuckled at that. 

“I think under the circumstances, Your Grace, that a case of nerves is considered a normal thing.” 

Jon nodded in agreement, “I am going to freshen up, but plan to have everyone in the courtyard at their arrival.” 

“Aye, Your Grace, we will be there,” Jon Arryn said amused as Jon passed him. The boy certainly had the northern abruptness to him. The Rose of Highgarden would help smooth that out. He chuckled as he wondered if the girl realized she would be spending a decent part of their marriage, explaining that her husband was not trying to insult the lords and ladies of Westeros, just had very little patience for bullshit. 

Jon quickly made his way through the keep and into his chambers. He was glad to see a bath had been brought in and water heated, though he glared at the ridiculous monstrosity on a bathtub that until recently had been quite firmly in the ownership of the ladies of Winterfell. Somehow, the servants had taken to lugging it to his rooms. 

He had half a mind to melt the bathtub down along with the Iron Throne. The thought made him happy and he quickly took to stripping down. As he slipped into the water, a sigh of happiness released as the warmth quickly started to work on his sore muscles. A squawking was the only noise he got before he looked out his window to see Vargas’s snout sticking in.

“You know very well you are not going to fit inside anymore,” he sternly told the dragon who only huffed at him unreasonably. 

Jon washed quickly and tried not to let himself slip further into the comfort of the water. Finally, having allowed himself as long as felt comfortable to soak he pulled himself out and dressed. 

“Jon?” Arya’s voice called from the other side of his door. He went to let her in and smiled at the sky blue tunic she wore with winter roses stitched into the hem and around the collar and sleeves. She scowled as she noticed him looking. 

“It seemed the roses might be a matter of creating goodwill with your soon to be in-laws,” she snapped before he could say anything. 

“They called my mother the Winter Rose of Winterfell,” Jon said in response and Arya smiled at him. The open sharing of her father and the other’s in Winterfell who remembered Lyanna had been good for her brother. 

“And now your to marry the Rose of Highgarden,” she saucily responded and her smile stretched into a grin when Jon blushed. 

“Do you know if everything is ready for their arrival?” Jon asked. 

Arya nodded, “Aye, the first keep has been completely restored as you’ve seen and the servants have set the bed chambers on the second and third floors for the Tyrells. Margaery and your rooms are on the third. The fourth floor is set aside with two rooms as a Solar for the Hand and one for yourself. The bottom floor has rooms for the guards on duty, a small kitchen, and a small hall.”

Jon smiled at Arya’s in depth detail. His father had taken to calling the First Keep the Tower of the King and had declared it would be for when Jon visited...often, after the wars were done. He could not find it in himself to be disappointed in the order. 

The broken tower had been finished as well in connection to the Tower of the King. It was to house the royal guard when the King was in Winterfell. Jon shook his head at the fact he was going to have a royal guard. He’d been able to avoid much of the pomp and protection he was about to have to allow to happen, but his time of freedom was running out. 

“The cooks have gone all a flutter with preparing a meal for feast tonight. I even heard one of them going about talking to anyone who might know what the future queen might like,” Arya chuckled. 

Jon shook his wryly. He did not completely understand why everyone was getting so excitable. 

“A northern son will rule us again, Jon, and he has chosen a lady whose good deeds managed to reach Winterfell with every raven sent home from the guards travelling. She stopped the entire process four times after entering the north. Once to help raise a barn that a village was struggling to get raised due to having very few young men, second to visit an orphanage on the other side of the neck and make sure the children had what they needed with the coming winter, a third time to help a merchant fix the axle on his wagon, and finally she stopped the entire procession at Castle Cerwyn where she visited Lady Jonelle and asked if the lady would perhaps join her procession as one of her handmaids,” Arya spoke as they made way back outside. Jon looked to the sky to see Vargas making loops and finally flying down to set down outside the walls. Jon could feel Ghost running towards his dragon brother and Jon almost rolled his eyes as he felt feelings of excitement course through the bond he had with both. 

“Did the orphans have what they needed?” Jon found himself asking. 

“Perhaps, you should ask your betrothed,” Ned Stark said as they came to a halt in the courtyard to find the majority of everyone else in Winterfell of any standing waiting. 

“They are coming through Winter Town now,” Ned said as Jon went to stand beside the Warden of the North. 

It seemed as if a day had passed by the time the herald called from the gate, “Make way!” the herald called as the Tyrell, Stark, and Tully soldiers flooded into the courtyard. 

A wheelhouse followed in and Arya and Jon both traded looks as the memory of the usurper arriving in their past life. Strangely enough it did not seem as though Jon’s wife-to-be was in, because from behind the wheelhouse came the Lady Catelyn, Robb, and what had to be Loras and Margaery Tyrell. 

Margaery was wearing the furs and cloak he had sent was the first thing Jon noticed. The second was that she had her hair braided back into a simple northern braid, but there was nothing simple about his wife to be. She slipped from her horse as if she was born to ride and joined her brother who had held his hand to help his grandmother from the wheelhouse. 

Jon forced himself to stand still as they came forward. 

His aunt first who dipped a curtsy, “Your Grace.”

“Aunt, it is good to have you home. Your people have missed you,” Jon said somberly. Lady Catelyn smiled at him and made to join her husband. 

Robb just grinned before announcing, “I brought you a wife.”

Jon blushed crimson but clasped arms with his brother. 

“I am Lord Eddard Tully, Your Grace,” Edmure Tully bent the knee. 

“Be welcome and rise, Lord Edmure,” Jon intoned with the words drilled into him by his uncle and Jon Arryn in the lessons he’d been suddenly forced to endure. 

Throughout the introductions his eyes kept drifting to the Lady Margaery, but he steeled himself as the Lady Olenna came to stand in front of him. 

“Lady Tyrell, be welcome,” he said quietly as the old woman raked her eyes over him and stared at him as if trying to see his soul. 

“Hmph, you will do I suppose,” she remarked, “Now, let me get out of the way so you can actually see what you have been trying to watch without appearing rude since this whole thing began.”

Jon laughed without meaning too and if the way Lady Tyrell’s lips quirked up then this reaction was met with approval. 

“My King,” the lady in question said quietly as she stepped in front of Jon and gracefully curtsied.

“Rise, please, My Lady,” he held his hand out to assist her up. Once she was standing he found himself reluctant to let her hand go, but finally did and knew his cheeks must be as red as Sansa’s hair. 

“I know you have traveled hard and must be weary, My Lady. Allow me to escort you and your household to your quarters,” Jon asked, eyes on Margaery, though he knew he was supposed to be asking Lady Olenna this. 

“That would be most appreciated, I fear my grandmother might actually turn into a wolf herself and start biting if she does not have an opportunity to rest,” Lady Margaery answered quietly. 

Jon did remember to turn to his uncle and aunt before just walking away with the Tyrell party. 

“We shall eat tonight in the great hall in feast to welcome our friends and allies to Winterfell,” Jon said loudly and a cheer went up through the keep. 

“That we shall,” Lord Stark responded, his eyes dancing at Jon’s flustered state. 

“With your leave, Your Grace, I will see to the rest of the preparations,” Lady Stark was obviously trying not to grin herself. 

“Of course, Aunt, and once again...welcome home,” Jon responded familiarly. 

“This way, My Lady and My Lady Hand,” Jon said as he lead the Tyrell’s away from the courtyard. 

Margaery kept peeking at him through her eyelashes and Jon struggled with words, before finally blurting some out. 

“Did the orphanage have all they needed?”

Loras snorted from behind them and they heard a whap that Margaery knew to be the back of her grandmother’s hand against her brother’s head. 

“Mostly, My King. The orphanage itself could probably use more installation to the walls and the roof fixed, but over all, the children were hearty and happy,” she responded. 

“Jon...please,” the man she was to marry almost seemed to be pleading and met her eyes. Margaery was immediately swept in by the dark grey eyes peering at her. 

“Jon,” she gave in as she realized her husband-to-be needed her to see him as a man, “and I am Margaery.” 

“Margaery, “ Jon said quietly as they reached what appeared to be a smaller courtyard and a large tower. Margaery immediately decided that she liked the way her betrothed said her name. 

Jon turned to take in the rest of the procession that had followed them, at a slightly more sedate pace so that Jon and Margaery could talk. 

“The tower to the right is the barracks for your forces,” Jon said simply and was impressed with how quickly the men seemed to know what to do. A force of six guards remained with the family and the Lady Jonelle. 

“I see we have flags flying,” Lady Olenna said as the men hustled about. 

Jon nodded, “Aye, this is the Tower of the King. With the amount of time we will be here before marching south, the Warden of the North made preparations for your arrival. The second floor will be for you My Lady Hand and other members of the household. The third will be for..well…” 

“For us when we wed?” Margaery supplied as Jon again appeared flustered. 

“Yes,” he simply answered. 

“The top is two separate solar’s,” Jon finished explaining, “I’m afraid this is where I must take my leave. I will see you all tonight and I would like to hold council in the morning, Lady Olenna.”

Margaery watched as her grandmother nodded staunchly and then watched as her betrothed walked briskly back towards whence they came. 

“I think you might have gotten lucky, Marge,” Loras said coming up beside her and also watching Jon as he walked away. Margaery turned and smacked him as well. 

“Well, I suppose, we should see where it is we are going to be living these next few moons,” Olenna grumbled as they made their way in. 

The keep felt rather warm is the first thing Margaery noticed as they found a couple household maids waiting. 

They were led up to the second floor where the large corridors opened to many different rooms. When Margaery was led into what would be her suite until Jon and her were married in three days time she gasped. Everywhere she turned there were bunches of clipped roses in vases of varying colored glass. 

“Are you alright?” Loras’s voice came from the corridor as he entered the sitting room Margaery was turning around in. He stopped at the sight and gaped as well. 

The cackling of Lady Olenna drew their attention to the door. 

“Rhaegar Targaryen crowned Lyanna Stark with winter roses at the tourney where Jon Targaryen’s story began. It appears his son wants to make sure he out does his father, though I don’t see a crown of roses in all this,” Olenna remarked as she came in fully. 

“Um, Grandmother...Margaery,” Loras called them over to a small table with a box upon it. 

“Oh, my,” Olenna Tyrell said and Margaery could hear the surprise in the woman’s voice. Margaery walked over and peered down. 

Gently laid in a cushioned box laid a golden crown with roses grafted into the twists and turns. Margaery swallowed hard as she reached out a hesitant hand to rub over the smooth finish. She knew without a doubt that this was the crown she would wear when she married King Aegon Targaryen and became the Queen. 

**THE BAY OF DRAGONS**

* * *

Daenerys looked over to Jorah as orders were yelled among the ship hands and they finally began to feel the rocking of the vessel as she made her way to sea. 

“My Empress?” Jorah asked as he looked back at her. 

She pursed her lips and glanced back at Theon and Sansa. They were standing close to one another with the young Lady Alannys tucked warmly against her mother. The infant was no more than three moons old, but already had the entirety of the Daenerys’s household wrapped around her little finger. 

She looked back to Jorah who was watching her questiongly. 

“Marry me,” Daenerys finally blurted out without warning. 

The man’s face turned a brilliant shade of red, “I...Your Majesty... I am not…”

“You love me, yes? You are in love with me, that is to say?” Daenerys retorted before he could get anything else out. 

Her northman simply nodded finally. 

“Good, then upon to return to Westeros, Jon will sign your pardon and then we will marry before the heart tree,” Daenerys ordered. 

Ser Jorah just continued to nod slowly and when he opened his mouth to speak, Dany reached out and placed a finger over his mouth. 

“That will be quite enough arguing for now. We have plenty of time to hash out the details,” she said simply and walked closer to the edge of the ship and smiled upwards as Rhaegal, Drogon, and Viserion passed over head. 

She looked to the horizon and smiled. They were finally going North. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  
  


  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking it out for the first act! If you want to see current manips and updates for this story and others, you can check out my tumblr at hellsofbelles.tumblr.com. I answer questions there as well and take prompts. 
> 
> I hope to begin Act Two within the week. Once we move into The War of the Summer King we will begin visiting King's Landing, Dorne, and the True North.


	11. ARC TWO IS UP: WAR OF THE SUMMER KING

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Part two is started. 
> 
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177119

https://archiveofourown.org/works/21177119


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